Return to Me
by MadJezebel
Summary: When Christine discovers the horrors that Raoul has sentenced Erik to, she risks everthing to reach him. Will Raoul finally triumph in winning his prize by ending the life of a phantom? EC. Mature rating for strong sexual content and violence.
1. Awakening

**Summary:** Soon before Christine and Raoul's anticipated marriage, Christine discovers the depths of Raoul's madness-induced jealousy, and to the horrors that he sentenced Erik to. Will Christine risk everything to protect the man she truly loves, or will Raoul finally triumph in winning his prize – by ending the life of a phantom? Very mature rating for sexual content.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything even remotely connected to _Phantom. _Don't sue me, just read and enjoy! I must state, however, that this story will contain _strong_ adult content and themes, so plead continue at your own discretion. That means kiddies, go back to watching SpongeBob.

_**A Few Notes Before You Read…**_

Although this is not my first fan fiction, it is the very first story that I have had the courage to post! This fic is based on the ALW movie version of _POTO_, and was written with those actors in mind (I am sure you would all agree that it is a perfectly delicious thing to have Gerry on your mind, oh man of my heart!) You cannot honestly tell me that there would be this many POTO stories on this site had Gerard Butler not been the phantom. Wow - he is one incredibly sexy bloke.

Anyway, things will definitely heat up in the upcoming chapters – so be warned (or rather alerted, is probably the better word!) I thought it would be interesting to have a story in which the tables are turned between the Phantom and Raoul, with Raoul holding the upper hand in the fate of his beloved and the dark creature he loathes. Erik and Christine have a beautiful love story that should be portrayed beautifully in all areas – even the fun and naughty stuff. I must tell you that it is almost physically impossible for me to swear in any of my stories. Sure, I can write a steamy little fic, but when it comes to using harsh language - I can't and won't do it. I suppose I am just a "closet" bad girl - writing is the only way to purge myself of my sinful thoughts! Trust me – it will get _really _good. Please review to keep me motivated – my ego desperately needs it 

**Chapter One:**Awakening

"_Christine…Christine. Wake up, child! For heaven's sake, wake up!" _

Her body ached with coldness and fatigue, yet the constant voice resonating inside her head forced Christine to rouse herself from the dark, heavy waters in which she seemed to be immersed. Although her eyes still remained closed, she knew that she was not alone – wherever she was. She knew that she was lying down, but had no recollection of what had happened or how she got to this place. Her delicate, white face was deathly pale, and perspiration began to break out upon her troubled brow. There were so many noises running rampant in her ears, although only imaginary, the deafening sound became too much for her to bare. It was mainly one voice she heard, however, that seemed to cause her the greatest amount of pain. _"You alone can make my song take flight…It's over now the music of the night! Oh Christine…Christine…"_

She began to mumble words incoherently, like a child uttering a prayer before an alter.

"_Mama, she's beginning to wake! Oh sweet Christine, it's Meg! You're safe now. Please – open your eyes…Christine…"_

The second voice seemed even louder now than the first, causing the command to finally be processed in her brain and take effect. Her eyes fluttered, desperately trying to adjust to the light, even if it was only a few small lit candles. After a few moments, she finally began to see two familiar forms hovering above her. Holding a moist lace handkerchief, Meg's warm hand began to dab gently at Christine's forehead, giving a small smile as she saw that her friend was finally returning to consciousness.

"Everything is fine, my dear. It's over now." Madame Giry's reassuring voice, as always, made Christine relax briefly. Although she was enveloped in blankets on her dressing room settee, her body was still convulsing from being damp and cold. She turned her head slowly to look to the side, noticing her room was still filled with the fragrant roses from her past performance and notes from adoring admirerers. Their sweet scent was strangely mingled with the smell of smoke, triggering a hazy memory. It was in the mirror across from her, however, did she see the reflection of something that finally put all of the recent events into focus. Draped over her silk dressing screen was a soiled wedding gown, still dripping wet from being dragged though the opera house's dark underground waters. Her eyes opened wide at the painful sight of it, flashing over to Meg and Madame Giry for reassurance.

"You are still in shock, Christine. Do you remember what happened?" Meg asked in her concerned yet sweet voice.

"Yes…I mean, no." She looked around the room once again. "Raoul. Where's Raoul?"

Meg began to respond to the question, but the moment her mouth opened, her mother gave her a sharp look, cutting her off. Madame Giry began to stroke Christine's dark, untidy hair that washed over the red velvet chaise, speaking to her in soft and soothing tones. "He will come back to you very soon, my dear. That boy loves you very much, Christine. His love almost cost him his life tonight trying to protect you. Everything is as is should be now. You will see in time. It is how it should be."

A strange and uncomfortable feeling began to form deep inside of Christine. Unbeknownst to her, a small tear escaped from Meg blue eyes and fell down her rosy cheeks at her mother's words. She turned her face away, although desperately wanting to tell Christine everything that she knew – to scream at her mother that what was being done was wrong, but no sound could escape her lips. Clutching her friend's hand tightly, she bit her bottom lip to repress the emotions that welled inside of her.

"You really must rest now. The vicomte knows that you are alright. I will send him to you the moment that he returns."

Mdm. Giry rose and was away from her side almost instantly, pausing only briefly at the door without turning to address her daughter. "Come with me now, Meg."

Meg's eyes darted pleadingly to her mother and then back at Christine, whose own were closed tightly once again, as if to shut out the world and all its inhabitants. Meg leaned down to kiss the slender hand enclosed firmly in her own, pulled a soft cover tightly over Christine's shoulders, then walked hurriedly to rejoin her mother, choking back sobs with one hand. The loud _thud _of the door closing echoed throughout the small room. There was then an outburst of heated whispers in the foyer.

"_You will say nothing, Meg! Nothing! Do you understand me - "_

"_Mama how can you do this to her…to him! You know what they will do! You know what he will he will do to him! He is mad! Please!" _ The voices were carried away with light, hurried footstep.

Christine gripped the blanket tightly over her scantily-clad body as she turned over onto her side. Her appearance in the mirror drew a soft gasp from her lips. It seemed as if all the life had been drained from her – the once radiant glow of her face was now replaced with a sickly, drawn countenance. She clutched the cover even tighter, rocking herself hypnotically like a frightened child. Straining to hear a familiar voice to comfort her in the darkness as there had been every night since her father's death, she began to weep, for no sound came. There was no music. No beauty. No angel. Only a terrifying silence.


	2. Whispers

**Chapter Two: Whispers**

It had been almost six months since that infamous night in the opera house – a night that Christine relived constantly in her mind, yet gave intimations to no one that such thoughts plagued her without end. Her life had been altered drastically, as she was no longer the talented young ingénue of the renowned Opera Populaire, but rather only the wife-in-waiting to a member of high society. Each day was filled with endless parties and balls; teas and wedding planning. The brightness of Paris outside the opera house overwhelmed Christine, who spent most of her time on the arm of the Vicomte de Chagny, a man to which she owed her life. Although her prince had done everything humanly possible to prove his love for her, she could not help feeling something missing, as if a hole was being dug deeper and deeper into her heart with each passing day. Her lips had not open in song since that night, as her voice seemed to be constricted by the heaviness of her own heart. Yet it was not love for Raoul that caused such torment, but rather the thoughts of dark figure looming in her past. She hated herself because of it, yet there were no ways to erase the painful memories. The only way she knew to set things right and free her own soul was to marry Raoul, a man who loved her with staggering force.

Countless times throughout the day, Christine would form images in her mind of what her angel was doing at that very moment, the poor creature! Lurking in the shadows of the ruined opera house; sitting in front of a shattered organ; hovering over the streets of Paris, whispering her name. _Christine…come to me angel of music…_

It was during one of these moments that a pair of lips brushed across her gloved hand, jolting her back into reality.

"I apologize for interrupting your thoughts, my love, although you seemed to be more in a trance. Have you heard even a word I have said to you all morning?" Raoul asked with a rakish grin and boyish laugh. The pair had been strolling the streets for a while, but Christine had barely uttered a word since they left the De Chagny's grand chateau. Most of the time was filled with Raoul's incessant chatter about their future life together, their beautiful home they would soon inhabit, and the dozens of children they would have to fill the all of the rooms. The streets of Paris were crowded with people of all classes, although much more room was given allowance for the vicomte and his fiancée to pass by than an impoverished, crippled mother holding her newborn and leading her two older children. Christine looked at the struggling family, thinking for a fleeting moment how uncompassionate this wicked world is. Breaking from Raoul's grasp, she quickly turned on her heels to slip a large gold coin from her silk satchel into the small, dirtied hand of one of the children. The child stared at her for a moment, wide-eyed and bewildered, then turned to show his mother the gift that would feed them for a week. Although the woman's head was partially covered with heavy muslin to conceal a marred and disfigured face, possibly from a fire or other tragedy, Christine could still see her cheeks glisten with tears and a beautiful smile break over her unsightly features at the act of kindness.

"Forgive me, Raoul. I fear I have not been myself today." Christine finally answered as she rejoined the vicomte.

"I can see that." He replied, frowning at her impulsive action. "You know you really mustn't give to these criminals, my dear. They will take money from you one moment and then murder you in your bed the next, the filthy riffraff. This great city is filled with far too many of them. I do wish parliament would take some action on the matter."

Christine's heart dropped. Yet before she had a chance to respond to his callous remark, he spoke once again after stopping them abruptly.

"Oh, one moment, my dear. I have business with this gentleman here. I will be but a moment. You will be alright?"

"Of - Of course." She nodded a bit hesitantly. He hurried over to the mouth of an alley, where an imposing, smooth-headed Frenchman with a mustache and dark suit gave him a curt nod and discreet handshake through his heavy cape. Christine moved from the busy street to stand across the way from where the two stood. After speaking for only a few moments, she watched Raoul remove a sealed envelope from his jacket pocket and hand it to his acquaintance. The man rifled through the envelope with a contended smile, then gripped Raoul's hand again in agreement. Christine strained to hear what she could of the conversation over shouting children and heavy carriages moving down the cobblestone path. What parts she did hear Raoul say, however, left her extremely unsettled.

"_Do what you must, monsieur…money is not an issue…if there is no blood, there is no gain - I said that from the very beginning… continue until I tell you otherwise…"_

The older gentleman nodded again in agreement, then quickly took his leave. Raoul spent a brief moment to collect himself as he smoothed out his jacket and took a deep inward breath before turning to locate Christine.

"Ahhh…there you are!" They met each other again in the middle of the street. He again grasped her hand possessively and led her along at an even brisker pace than before.

"Who was that, Raoul?" Christine asked with innocent worry.

"It was nothing."

"It had to be _something. _Please, tell me."

"Trust me, Christine. Just put the thought from your head." She was now having difficulty matching his long, heavy strides with her short, light, dancer steps.

"But Raoul…"

Stopping her sharply, his grip tightened severely as he placed his hand on her slender wrist. She winced at the bruise the vice began to form.

"We will _not _speak of this again, Christine." His teeth remained clenched as he spoke. "I am soon to be your husband, and you should respect me and my wishes as a wife properly should. As _my _wife properly should!"

Turning her head to hide the tears that quickly sprung to her eyes, she nodded rhythmically. "Very well." The words were choked as she tried to repress her inward sobs.

After calling a carriage to take them back home, Raoul did not utter a word to his fiancée. Christine was left to sit in uncomfortable silence, turning over the recent events in her head to make some sense of it. Although she did not know what, something was terribly wrong. His stony demeanor sent a chill down to the very core of Christine's heart. This was not the same man she knew as a child, or even a few months ago. Yet it was only at strange instances did you ever lose his temper with her. Only a few weeks ago, he had struck her for the first time because she wanted to visit Meg, her dearest and only friend. She touched the right side of her face with sadness, still stinging from the shock of the blow. Yes, some form of madness had driven him to this point of cruelty towards her, but what could it be?


	3. By A Thread

**Chapter Three: By A Thread**

A loud and rapid knocking jolted Christine from her slumber. The sun had just begun to set over Paris, and she was shocked that she had fallen asleep while reading at so late an hour. Even the shrill calls of the peacocks that roamed the De Chagny gardens failed to wake her. She rose stiffly from an overstuffed parlor chaise, reaching the foyer just as a dainty French maid with a thick accent answered the boisterous caller. Not wanting to involve herself in any of Raoul's matters or those of his families, she concealed herself from view behind an adjoining wall. Although it was not her intent to pry, a quick glance at the gentleman at the door gave her reason to remain frozen in her steps. Her body seemed to will her to remain transfixed on the situation. She had seen this man before - the mysterious "business partner" that Raoul had met on the street just weeks earlier!

"Can I help you, monsieur?"

"Yes, my dear, I am here to see the vicomte. It is of a matter of great importance." Much like that of a snake, the overfed man stealthily inched his way closer to the slender young brunette, his eyes greedily running up and down her frame. The girl held her stance, closing the door a hair more with each of his advances.

"The vicomte is not presently at home, monsieur." She said with apprehension. "He was called away on business. If you leave your - "

"No need for that, pet." He hissed through rotten teeth and a burly mustache, lightly tracing his finger over her exposed collarbone. "Did he perhaps leave anything for a M. Russou?"

"No, monsieur. Nothing. Now if you wish to - "

"There are a great number of things I would wish to do, love, although they unfortunately would require some amount of energy on my part." His breath reeked of ale, and beads of sweat began to form at the top of his bare head from a long journey's ride, trickling down his pock-marked face. "But I am sure we could come up with other arrangements."

She turned her head sharply and grimaced.

"Now, now. Don't worry you pretty little face. I am leaving. No need to mention this to the vicomte - I will return again. Although I'm sure we could find much to…talk about…in the vicomte's absence, hmmm?" She quickly stepped back as he began to run his dingy finger down her neck and between her two pert breasts. _The cad! _Christine thought through clenched teeth, although desperately wanting not to make her presence known.

"Good day, monsieur!" His cynical laughter could be heard even through the loud crash of the decadent double doors. The maid turned around and walked briskly down the main foyer, sniffing softly. Christine burst around the corner from her hiding, almost knocking down the startled girl.

"I'm so sorry, Aimee." She quickly cupped the cherub face and pecked a kiss on a tear-stained cheek. "If Raoul returns, tell him I went to the dressmakers for wedding matters."

"Of course, mademoiselle." The younger girl, still composing herself from the rude caller, rushed to Christine's side to help her put on a cloak over her white blouse and flowing royal blue skirt. The darkness of the black fabric as it was pulled over her hair made her face look even more pallid than usual, her rosy lips and troubled blue eyes leaping from her delicate features. Before Aimee could ask another question, Christine had already flown from the doors, running to the side of the house to fetch the De Chagny's carriage driver. She could still faintly see the mysterious visitor atop a large ebony mount, riding out of the estate's gates at a brisk pace.

"Follow that man - and please hurry!" she told the driver breathlessly.


	4. A Chaste Harlot

**Chapter Four: A Chaste Harlot**

No earthly words in any form or language could justly describe the horrors that faced Christine as she stepped out of the carriage with shaking limbs.

"Are you sure this is where you want to be?" the driver asked her, his voice tinged with doubt and concern. Christine barely heard him, as her mind and eyes were desperately trying to process her surroundings.

"Mademoiselle?" He inquired again. "This doesn't look like a place a woman like yourself should be…"

"Yes. Thank you. I will be fine." She responded with as much confidence as she could muster, although barely convincing through a small, trembling voice. He rolled his eyes and gave a "suit yourself" look before calling to his horses to move the carriage forward, leaving Christine standing in the middle of the darkest part of Paris. Lingering behind the walls of a noisy brothel, she avidly watched the man she stalked dismount his horse and walk into a large, run-down, stone building that was situated directly over a section of the city sewer. With a thin wall as the only barrier between herself and the brothel, she could hear every moan and each bed rattle from inside of the dingy building. She blushed heavily.

Her nose and eyes burned from the painful stench and sulfur fumes which rose from the ground. The structure had no windows, only small openings covered in heavy cast-iron bars. The sounds emitted from the large building were deafening as well as frightening - screams and moans; hysterical laughter; cries of pain. Never in her sheltered life had Christine ever witnessed such a daunting sight. It was now completely dark, except for scattered lanterns set high above the cobblestone streets. There were people of all ages huddled next to each other in the alleyways for warmth, their shallow breaths visible in the frigid night air. Prostitutes lined the streets, waiting desperately in shabby bustiers and cheap, gaudy jewelry for business with any customer who paid. Many feigned smiles to male passer-bys just moments before coughing deeply into a handkerchief stained with blood, a tell-tale sign of the deadly plight of tuberculosis.

Christine pulled the heavy wool cloak tightly over her chest as tiny, white flecks of snow began to dance from the infinite night sky, dusting her head and eyelashes. Suddenly a loud commotion from inside the brothel made her skin jump. There were sounds of bottles crashing and yelling, followed by the door directly in front of her flying open. A girl no older than fourteen staggered out of the uproar and fell onto the cold, hard ground at Christine's feet. Devilish laughter roared from the whorehouse, yet Christine could only hear the girl's muted cries. She kneeled to help the young women from the ground. Sadness struck her as she looked into the sweet face - a face that looked like so many of the other young ballerinas she had danced with at the opera populaire. Yet this face was pasty and bruised already from years of drinking and abuse, her cheeks and lips smeared with dark rouge.

"Are you alright? Here - let me help you…" But the moment her hand touched the younger girl's arm, she jumped up from in front of Christine, breathing heavily as she made her distance from the strange woman.

"Please, I don't want to hurt you. Won't you let me help you?" The girl gripped what little clothing she had tightly to her skin to conceal the bruises that covered her arms. After shaking her head firmly, causing tears to cascade down her cheeks, she turned to go back inside of the clamorous room. Christine looked after her with despair, then another thought suddenly rushed into her head. She practically ran in front of the small figure to block her entrance into back into the brothel.

"_Wait! _Please…if you will not let me help you, would you not help me? _Please._" Met with another frightened look, Christine knew that she needed to speak quickly. "Can you tell me what that building is over - over there?" She pointed to the ominous structure across the street where the mysterious man had entered, still keeping eye contact with the timid creature in front of her. The girl cocked her head slightly, confused.

"It is some type of prison, mum." She lowered her eyes, finding it impossible to look into the face of purity and perfection. "It's where they put the insane and the very darkest of souls."

"Is there any way to get inside?" Christine questioned desperately, completely unaware that she had grabbed a small white hand in front of her, clutching it tightly. The young prostitute looked at her as if she were speaking a different language. "Inside?"

"Yes. Please - I _must _know."

There was silence for a few moments. "No there isn't. The only people who can go inside are the guards and the inmates."

"No one else then?"

"No, mum. Well, there _have _been a few of us girls who were desperate, you know, for food and such, and went inside to pleasure the guards, but not me. They don't come out the same way they go in." She shook her head sadly. "But why would a fine lady like yourself want to be anywhere near there?" Her eyes sparkled only briefly as she looked up and down at Christine's elegant clothing, obviously made from the finest and most expensive material. "That place is condemned."

Christine contemplated her remark. It was true - her appearance stuck out in this place like a rose among a garden of wilted, dying flowers. _What am I walking into? _Yet her heart seemed to be screaming to her what her mind could not comprehend. She had to get into that wretched place and prove to herself what no one else could.

"My reasons are my own. Now tell me, what is your name?"

"M-Marie." The girl finally took an outward breath as she wiped her face with the back of her hand, smearing her painted eyes and cheeks.

"Marie," Christine said, enclosing the girls other hand in her own as well. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes momentarily. _Oh,God, give me strength! _"Would you find me something…else to wear if I gave you my own clothes, and this?" Reaching into her side, she removed 50 francs and closed them into the other set of cold hands.

Marie could not prevent her mouth from gaping at the question - or the great deal of money resting in her palm. There was no way she could resist such an offer, even from such an obviously demented woman. Without asking another question, she took the roll of bills and stuffed it inside of her cleavage.

"Come with me."


	5. Acquaintances

**Chapter Five: Acquaintances**

The icy wind stung Christine's bare skin as she walked out of the back door of the brothel. With only a thin shawl to cover her meagerly-clad body, all feelings became numb as the snow began to fall heavier now over the seemingly God-forsaken city. She passed Marie a slight smile as she walked past her in the doorway. The prostitute gave her one in return - the first genuine one she had given to other living soul in a very long while. At first, she thought that the strange girl who approached her was fanatical, even mad for asking her what she did, but now she understood that for whatever reason she was doing this, love was behind the answer. Lust and sex, as easy to understand as any other fact of life, she was familiar with. The power of true love, however, completely baffled her.

The other prostitutes exchanged confused glances and whispers as they watched such a rare beauty walk past them and to the large cast-iron gate that encircled the asylum. Christine had given Marie all of her clothes, jewelry, and fancy undergarment in exchange only for a revealing burgundy coreselette, tattered lace undergarments, stockings, a frayed skirt, and paper-thin wrap. She certainly looked the part - Marie even applied her own ghastly rouge to her lips and cheekbones. Christine had never felt so apprehensive in all her life. What she was doing was taking a leap of faith - a chance that she would regret the rest of her life if she did grasp the opportunity with both hands. It was her only way to discover the truth. Questioning Raoul was unthinkable, as he would not only deny any accusations, but would likely take out his anger on his bride-to-be once again. She was walking into this situation blind, not knowing what her next step would be once she was inside.

_Wandering child - so lost, so helpless - yearning for my guidance…_

Christine shut her eyes, touching her cheek where he had so gently caressed it in his underground would of music and darkness. She had never known the feeling of longing so greatly than when she was with him, and even now, his words from another time seemed to embrace her in love and security. She yearned desperately to feel him close to her again; his warm breath upon her neck as he softly sung into her ear. Perhaps there would be no answers for her inside this terrifying place, but a voice inside of Christine was telling her otherwise.

Before Christine had a chance to change her mind and flee before being noticed, a suave young guard opened the large entrance doors only a dozen feet in front of her. She clutched the bars in frozen anticipation as he sauntered over to where she stood. Any words seemed to remain trapped in her throat, although her mouth was open, desperately trying to speak. After noticing that the man approaching her was hungrily drinking in every inch of her angelic body with his demon gaze, she casually made an effort to cover herself with the scant overgarmet. At the moment Christine finally began to say something, the tall guard had already reached the gate to unlock it, speaking to her first.

"I bid you welcome, _mademoiselle_." He emphasized with a mocking bow. His face displayed a pleased smirk, as if he had been expecting her. When he began to open the heavy gate, she pulled it shut towards her with both hands. It felt safer that way. Although the man was taken aback, he didn't remove his stare that bore into her.

"Wait - I have come…I have been paid to-to…" She stammered. "What I mean to say is that I have been paid to conduct…business here - with one of your inmates. The dues have already been p-paid by a very important and…wealthy patron of this establishment."

"I see." The guard replied with the same cynical smile. "Very well - I wouldn't want to keep your…_business _waiting. This way."

With stiff limbs, she waked past him with as much distance and speed as possible. Through the vestibule he silently followed behind her, brusquely guiding her with one hand placed strategically below the small of her back then traveling down lower. Her entire body tensed at the uncouth touch, but she did not want to stop moving, both out of fear and from the painful cold. An overpowering, foul stench almost caused Christine to step backwards as she stepped into the entrance of the asylum. The sounds also became magnified upon walking through the mouth of the structure. It was eerily dark, except for a few sparse candles lit down an endless hall of sealed chambers. However, what light there was only illuminated the dozens of rats that scurried past Christine's dainty feet and down the tunnel of darkness.

The place was massive - rising out of the ground for many stories. She watched the first guard walk over to another older, more kind-faced one just exiting a cell who eyed her curiously as the man whispered into his ear. He nodded in understanding and then waved the younger man away. Christine cowered into a corner slightly as he approached hastily approached her. Surprised to receive such an action from a common whore, he kept his distance to not startle her more. Prostitutes visiting the asylum was not uncommon, however. Many had frequented the asylum throughout the years to pleasure the guards for only a few small portions of food. Yet there was something different about this girl that he could not precisely determine.

He cleared his throat and tried to address her with authority, although her stunning beauty made it difficult for him to speak plainly. "You really should leave, girl. We know of no arrangement made by any of our patrons. It would be best if you would go…"

Christine stepped further forward out of the shadows, raising her hand to his own without making contact. "No, wait! _Please. _I speak the truth. Why else would I have come had I not been paid graciously to do so?" She grappled for some sort of reasonable excuse as she noted the guard's suspicious glare. "You must believe me! The vicomte who paid me said he would know if his orders were not carried out. It will cost me my life if you do not allow me to enter, monsieur."

The man scratched his head, deliberating. It was so difficult to resist her pleading eyes and desperate tone, yet that was partly the reason why he found it hard to let her pass. He knew the character of the other guards all too well, and was certain that they would not see a simply frightened young girl, but rather a release for their contained passions.

"Who is this man whom you are sent for? We care for well over a hundred in this _glorious_ place." he looked up to the ceiling as he sarcastically waved his arms in orchestration of the frightening noises.

Christine's pulse raced. _This was it. _"He would be easily recognized, monsieur…half of his face is severely deformed."

The guard's brow wrinkled in confusion. "There is no one here with that abnormality, child."

"No, there must be some mistake." She looked to the ground for answers, shaking her head resolutely. Her heart felt as if it had been drained of all blood, and tears began to well in her eyes as she looked back up at the man. Had all of her hopes and efforts truly been in vain? "Are you certain?"

"Of course I am certain. I am one of the head guards of this asylum. I know each and every soul in here like the back of my hand, and there is no one here by that description." He held up a gnarled, blemished hand to show her. "A few rather ugly fellows I'll concede, but nothing of any unusual nature."

Before Christine could question him further, a familiar form emerged from a darkened stairwell, followed by the boorish man who greeted her at the gate.

"Did I hear something about a man with only half a face?" The balding man questioned as he ascended upon the two conversing. Christine lowered her head, wondering if the man would recognize her from that day in the street or elsewhere. _How could he? _She thought to herself, as her appearance was nothing to that of the woman on the arm of the Vicomte de Chagny. The older guard turned to face the man who spoke. He ducked his head, obviously in submission to the person walking towards him

"It is some misunderstanding, monsieur." He replied honestly. "She was just about to leave - no one here fits that description. We know that, of course."

The stranger slinked his way towards the girl, clicking his tongue. "Now, now. Not so fast." With his empty hand free from the liqueur bottle he held in the other, he raised a spotted finger to tip Christine's chin up towards him. "Who sent you here?" He hissed.

Francois rubbed his hands together in a helpless gesture, genuinely concerned for the girl's safety. "Really, monsieur, this is preposterous! We both know there is no one here who…"

"_Silence!"_ he growled, raising the tinted bottle in command while his eyes remained glued to Christine. "There is much you don't know, old man. Tell me, pet. Who sent you here?"

Christine dove frantically into her mind to find what to say. Because of the events earlier in the afternoon, she knew he had not come into contact with Raoul for quite some time, thus proving her story false. Perhaps he would believe her. On the other hand, saying Raoul's name might cause her even greater trouble if this man was smarter than he looked.

Her slender throat rippled as she swallowed hard. With as much bravery as she could possibly muster, she spoke directly into the repulsive face. "The Vicomte de Chagny sent me, monsieur, only today. He paid me well already. I am to see the man he conceals here." Their eyes seemed to remain locked on one another for hours - he contemplating why his patron would do such a thing while she questioned his belief in her lie. His eyes squinted as he roughly removed his hand from her face and took another draft from the bottle, liquid dribbling down his chin and unkempt mustache.

"I suppose the vicomte has his _reasons _for everything" He took another few moments to think. "How else would you know of that horrid beast he hides here had he not told you so? Come along, then. I will take you to him." As he wrapped an arm callously over her shoulders to lead her to the stairway, ale leaped from the bottle and down her arm and side. Christine cringed at the hideous weight upon her shoulders. Upon approaching the beginning of the stairs, he quickly grabbed a lantern from the wall and held it in front to light the path. Francois, who was still having trouble understanding the situation, began to follow the pair down the steep descent. He knew of many of his superior's underhand dealings, yet in this instance, he was completely in the dark, although not surprised. Pain and suffering, after all, were the man's specialty.

"_Alone!" _The words bellowed over the beastly man's shoulder sent a chill down Christine's spine. Oh, how that word was so true! She had never felt more alone in her entire life. What horrors would await her at the end of their dark journey?


	6. In the Devil's Lair

**Chapter Six: In The Devil's Lair**

The descent down the dark stairs of the asylum seemed to be infinite to Christine. Her heart was racing both from the unknown of what lay ahead and the tight grip that the man guiding her had on her arm. He would look back at her constantly with a sinister smile as he pulled her down deeper into the eerie darkness. Christine's breath became heavier as she tried to keep up to his pace while still clutching the shawl that barely covered her trembling shoulders. The dim light he held with his other hand illuminated only a few feet ahead of their steps. After what seemed like an eternity, the pair finally reached a long, narrow passageway that was covered with pools of water that formed from the leaking walls and ceilings. A few drops of cold liquid fell onto Christine's bare skin, making her shiver even more from the chilling air.

For a brief moment, Christine felt a heavy sense of relief as she finally saw a distant yet faint light ahead of her. The man's grip tensed on her arm with greater intensity. Before the light became any clearer, however, he abruptly stopped in front of a small alcove in the passage wall, pulling Christine in front of him and backing her into the damp stone face. The lantern crashed noisily to the ground, the sound reverberating throughout the small enclosure. She barely had a moment to gasp before a large, coarse hand clamped hard over her mouth, the other firmly set on her stomach to keep her immobile. All cries for help were obstructed by his sweaty grip. Her eyes widened with fear at the beastly face that confronted her own so closely. He pouted his lips in feigned concern as one finger roughly caressed a pale cheek.

"Oh, come now, pet. I only want to play." He hissed. "You act as though you have never even been in the presence of a man…in need." Pushing his body closer into hers, Christine could feel his hardness pressing against belly. His breathing was ragged and his voice filled with lust. Her entire figure was now trembling uncontrollably as her eyes flew down and then back up into his fixed stare. Once her body finally became unfrozen, she struggled against him, pummeling his broad chest with her tiny fists. They had no effect on his heavy body, but her resistance aroused him to even greater heights.

Never had he felt so stimulated - violence fueled his passion and the lust made it difficult for him to speak but through clenched teeth. Christine desperately tried to turn her face away from him, but his hand clasped the sides of her cheeks tightly and still so he could kiss her full and brazenly on the lips. She whimpered through the foul embrace, still fighting with all her strength to escape the weight that pinned against her. He released her lips only briefly, before trailing his tongue down her neck and bare chest.

"Oh…you are so truly beautiful, my dear. I cannot be expected to waste _all_ of this perfection on some ghastly, worthless animal, don't you agree?"

He pulled back from her just long enough for Christine to look into his face with pleading doe eyes. "Please…I beg of you, monsieur. Don't do this. You do not understand. Please…"

His hands wandered slowly over her body, stopping to rest momentarily on her breasts that rose and fell with each quickened breath.

"What is there not to understand, hmmmm?" He kissed her roughly again, sucking on her lower lip while furtively burying his hand into the top of her corselette in search of something to satisfy his growing desire. Vigorously stroking one of her large, unaroused nipples, he moaned into her skin as he felt himself rising firmer with each touch and sensation. His slippery tongue roamed down between her breasts, then halted as a thought suddenly came to him.

"Unless…Yes, of course! That would explain it." Christine's mind raced at an even greater pace with his words. Had he found her out? Although at that moment, she cared for nothing else but escaping the fear that now consumed her. She would tell him everything if it would stop him from doing what he was about to do. Searching his eyes for an explanation, she shook her head numbly in confusion.

"Yes! Our clever little vicomte would send only the best for our mutual friend, would he not?"

Christine's stomach became tighter and tighter. "I - I do not understand." She blinked her eyes quickly, releasing pent-up tears down her cheeks.

"Do not toy with me, _coquette._" His hand constricted on her breast, causing Christine to wince in pain._ "_Why that explains your unwelcoming demeanor. You are a virgin, are you not?"

Her eyes flew open in terror to look at his demon face consumed with greed and lust. _What have I done? _Christine asked, desperately searching her mind for some answer or excuse to retract herself from the seemingly hopeless situation. Her body noticeably tensed even more.

"Ah, I see. That is all of the answer that I need. I'm sure that the vicomte wouldn't mind if I took a little bit for myself. I have, after all, been a great deal of service to him." Before he could wrap himself around her again, Christine managed to loosen a leg from his pressure and briskly thrust the heel of her shoe firmly into his shin. The Frenchman swore and fell to her side, doubled over in pain as he massaged his aching limb. Breaking from his grasp as soon as she felt the weight leave her, Christine flew from the wall and towards the light at the end of the narrow tunnel. The only sounds she could hear were her own heavy breathing and the sporadic puddles of water splashing beneath her. Glancing over her shoulder, she seemed to almost feel relief to see only darkness behind her. Yet with only one shoe, however, her desperate gait was slow, and panic struck her once again as she felt a hand grab her arm with brute force and jerk her back to the dark figure behind her.

"Why, you little wench!" The man hit her hard across the face, feeling satisfaction to see her cringe as he made a move to hit her once more. Her head was ringing, blood trickled out of her nose and the corner of her mouth. Throwing her hard against the cold wall, he roughly pulled her dark mane back, reveling in her pleading cries mingled with sobs. The intensity of his excitement urged him on, rising quickly to an unbearable peak. While pushing the front of her body into the hard stone, he groped the back of her skirts until they rested above her hips. The sound of fabric tearing behind her made Christine's heart fall into her stomach.

Christine had experienced the touch of a man before, but nothing so harsh and brutal. She tried to remember what it felt to have Erik touch her, with so much gentle awe and reverence. Yet all thoughts of her angel soon dissipated, replaced now only with the dark monster behind her - alien and repulsive. Terror gripped Christine, and she became frantic in search of some type of escape. She pleaded for him to stop this torment. She pleaded for death…anything but this. She pleaded for her angel, but no response came.

His hot, stinking breath bore a hole into the back of her neck as he moaned and grunted in anticipation, roaming his hands up and down the front of her body. He cupped her breasts in his palms, then ran his fingers up her arm to clasp a hand that dug tightly into the uneven stone wall. Pulling a hand behind her back, he guided her down to his groin, now rapidly changing and growing. Startled, she jerked her hand back in front of her. He laughed gruffly at her response, reminding him how truly unscathed this girl was. This was not damaged goods, as he was typically accustomed to.

The frustration was now becoming too great. Keeping her immobile against the wall with one hand, he used the other to release himself from his restrictive trousers. Oh, how good it would feel to put himself into something so untouched…so tight…so pure. The thought made it nearly impossible to keep to the task at hand, but he soon managed to free himself from the restrictive bindings, the intensity of his own excitement parting her legs for an unbound entrance. He hoisted her up gruffly onto his knee so that she was now level with him.

"Oh, my dear, I would love to tell you that this will not hurt at all, but alas, the facts of life! You do not wish for me to lie to you, now do you?"

"Please, I beg of you…let me go."

Licking his lips like a hungry dog, he continued to knead her tender breasts from behind while pushing himself dryly between her thighs. Her muscles cramped painfully and intensely as the heavy weight of his body held her at an uncomfortable angle against the wall. His body tensed, as if holding his breath before grazing her backside with his free and throbbing organ. Yet instead of thrusting into her, his heavy weight collapsed behind Christine. Her first reaction was to cry out, believing that the action really did happen, yet disbelief soon overtook her as she realized that he was not inside her, but rather crumpled in a heap on the ground. It took a few moments for her eyes to travel from the pathetic mass, half-clothed on the grimy floor, to the man holding a thick metal rod standing above him.

"Francois…" The older guard was breathing deeply, obviously from the labored journey down the stairs in pursuit of the pair. Christine had never felt a greater sense of safety and relief wash over her than at that moment. Yet her legs were still shaking, and she fell back against the wall for support. Francois quickly dropped the weapon next to the still body and replaced it with the thin shawl that fell from Christine during the struggle.

"Here you are, child." Wrapping the cloth around the girl's thin and still frame, Francois rested his hands gently on her shoulders and looked deeply into her pale face. Her eyes were almost glazed over in shock, and she tried in vain to swallow with dry lips and a parched throat. "Are you alright?" He asked her slowly.

"I think so, I mean…yes. Thank you." She choked, placing a hand on his arm for stability. Taking the corner of her already soiled covering, he gently wiped the blood from under her nose and mouth, his heart dropping at the sight of her battered face. And it was all his fault, he though to himself.

"I should have known better than to let a sweet thing like yourself into a hell hole like this. I don't care _what _you do for a living. Nobody deserves the likes of _that._" He said, motioning towards the dark figure lying without movement on the ground. Shaking his head at disbelief of his own stupidity, he carefully began to guide her back towards the stairwell. "Come, now. Let's get you something to eat and then get yourself out of…"

Christine jolted herself back into the present. "_No! _Wait!"

Pulling against his direction, she looked with desperation at the light that still loomed at the end of the passageway. No matter what may have happened to her, or almost happen, only one thing still beset her mind. She had come this far, there was no possible way she could go back to the safety comfort of the De Chagny chateau, and the arms of Raoul, without knowing the truth once and for all.

"Please. I _must_ know."

"Know what, child?" He shook his head resolutely. "It really isn't worth it. I will tell whoever sent you that you did what you needed to do. Nobody else has to know. I've already risked my own life to save your skin, so why don't you leave before anything else happens?" Francois turned again to walk back through the darkness, yet this time, Christine yanked free from his grasp and stood firm in her tracks. Even though her face was bruised, her hair in disarray, and her clothes in tatters, she was still one of the most beautiful creatures Francois had ever seen.

"You do not understand! I am not a prostitute. My name is Christine Daae. I am the fiancée on the Vicomte de Chagney." Her eyes dropped to the ground in shame. "I believe that he has kept a man in this place that does not belong here. It is my fault if it is true, Francois. I cannot let him die in this place, which he will. Even you know that, monsieur." Christine's voice began to break, and she pulled the wrap closer around her body for comfort. "Please. Just let me see if it is truly is him. I am begging you, Francois. You are my last and only hope. I love…this man. He is my angel."

Francois rubbed his hands together in anxious contemplation. How could he resist helping such a pitiful soul, even if he was risking his own life in the process? His eyes darted from the beautiful creature in front of him to the end of the dark tunnel behind her in the distance.

"I don't who you claim this man is, but it would seem that I would be your angel today, mademoiselle." He said with a boyish smile. "Very well. I believe I may know where this person is kept. Come this way, and make haste."

Christine's face lit up with joy, relief, anticipation, and fear - all at once. "Oh, thank you, monsieur!" She whispered as he rejoined her. Christine's pulse quickened as they grew closer and closer to the end of the condemned passageway.

_God give me courage to show you…you are not alone!_


	7. Out of the Shadows

**Chapter Seven: Out of the Shadows**

The guard sitting in front of the large stone door did not even shift from his drunken slumber as Francois and Christine came upon him. He was a round, disheveled fellow whose snores could be heard yards away from the actual source. A large bottle of ale rested open at his side, next to a hefty portion of partially eaten bread and molding cheese.

"Poor excuse for a human being! Get onto your feet, man!" Francois kicked him twice in annoyance, causing the sluggish creature to jumble about as he was aroused from his heavily inebriated state. The stout guard cleared his throat and brushed the remaining crumbs off of his shirt as he stood from the small wooden stool that barely held his heavy frame.

"Sorry, Francois. I must have dozed off."

The older man rolled his eyes and glanced over at Christine, her pretty face still so full of fear.

"Tell me, Pierre, what man do you keep in there?" Francois questioned, motioning his head towards the granite entrance.

The younger guard licked his lips nervously. "In there, monsieur?" He turned around as if only suddenly aware of the entryway behind him. "It's a matter of strict _confidentiality_." Pierre seemed almost proud of himself as he accentuated the final word as articulately as possible. "Its off limits but only to a few - even you, Francois."

"Would M. Russou be one of those few?"

Pierre looked at the man strangely, asking himself where this conversation was heading. "Why, yes, but…"

"Ah! Good! Well the boss has sent this girl to be left with whoever is inside of that cell. He gave _very_ strict orders." Francois tried to feign indifference as he gruffly wrapped his arm around Christine and pushed her closer to Pierre. The other man had barely been able to see Christine in the shadows, but once he did, he quickly tried to suck in his gut and push back his hair at the sight of a woman, particularly such a beautiful one at that. Christine managed to give the portly guard a coy smile and wink, though inwardly repulsed by his slovenly appearance and vulgar mannerisms. With his eyes still scanning up and down Christine, he addressed his elder.

"I was told nothing about such…arrangements. Does the vicomte know about this?"

Francois strove desperately not to roll his eyes again. _"Confidentiality" - what a joke, the stupid fool! _

"Of course, man! He was the one who arranged it in the first place. I have learned, though, not to ask questions but simply follow orders, wouldn't you agree?"

"I suppose." The guard contemplated the situation only a brief moment longer before reaching down to his belt to retract a set of keys. Before turning around, however, he also picked up long-barreled firearm that rested against a nearby wall to carry with him. "This way."

Christine let out a quick breath as Pierre turned around to insert one key that unlocked the massive door. Met with a warm and reassuring smile from Francois, she touched his arm with gratitude before slowly following the other guard into the dark chamber. Although Pierre held the only lantern in the vicinity in his hand, Christine chose to stand by the door as he progressed a few feet into the murky room. The only noises in those few moments were the keys clashing against Pierre's rounded side and the high-pitched voices of rats, roaming many and unseen in the darkness.

"It seems this is your lucky day, _maestro. _Your patron has sent you a little…gift - and a pretty one at that!" Christine's heart seemingly raced through her chest as she stood in absolute stillness in the doorway, watching the guard approach a shadowy figure at the back of the stone chamber. "Don't even think about trying anything clever. Behave yourself and we won't have any trouble, right?"

For a brief moment, Pierre held the dim lantern up high enough for Christine to see the form that stood with arms outstretched and facing the far wall. His wrists were bound in shackles and chained to opposite ends of small, bare room; his ankles bound also with chains that cut into the skin like dull knives. Even through the darkness, Christine could see that the man wore only a pair of ragged trousers and white over shirt that was completely shredded from countless lashes that had obviously ravaged his hard, muscular back. If fact, most of his clothing and skin was stained with blood - much of it from recent wounds. The man's head hung low to his chest, the dark hair covering his face completely. Pierre held the light up to his keys once again to fish out the one that unlocked his bindings. Before he inserted the key into the small latch on his wrists, the butt of the gun hit the prisoner hard in the side, escaping only a low, guttural moan.

"Remember - _behave _yourself." Pierre said with a twisted grin, reveling in the power and control he had over a man who was normally twice his own strength. Christine's hand flew to her mouth to prevent screaming out - the sight was too much for her to bear. Tears now welled heavily in her eyes, yet none escaped, as she was in too much a state of shock and disbelief to even blink. She knew now.

As soon as the second pair of shackles were unlocked from the man's arms, he collapsed hard onto the cold ground, his damaged body weakened from the fatigue of standing constantly under his own weight. Even after Pierre had set the lantern in the middle of the room directly behind him, the crumpled form did not move except for the labored breathing that caused his back to rise and fall heavily. His fists were clenched at his face in pain, yet no other muscle in his body showed any type of movement. The chill from the stony ground and Pierre striding behind him to the door caused the cold to set in once again, and his body shivered uncontrollably.

Although fear gripped Christine tightly, she forced herself to move from the entryway and into the damp chamber as Pierre approached her. It was a tight entrance, and she wanted as much clearance as possible away from that wretched man. Giving her only a demeaning look, Pierre slammed the heavy door firmly behind him. A bitter chill ran up Christine's spine as she heard the key enter the latch to lock her inside.

One part of Christine desperately screamed for run to her angel - to cradle him in her arms and plead for forgiveness, yet another part of her was too consumed with fear to even take a breath or move in any direction. With shaking limbs, she gradually inched her way closer to the dark figure that lay on the ground. Her eyes soon became accustomed to the darkness, making it easier to see ahead. She felt as if she were falling to pieces - her legs almost failing her on numerous steps towards him. Her heart sank even deeper as she could now clearly see the extent of the cruelty he was subjected to. Bruises covered his entire body, and streaks of flesh were ripped from his sides and back - many wounds healed and then dressed with newer, deeper blows. His beautiful musician's hands had been the object of cruelty - many fingers seemed to have been broken and then feebly bandaged back into place. _How could any human do this to another - to her angel? _She questioned herself, tears now freely flowing down her own bruised face. Even though he lay on the ground like a wounded child, he still looked like a god - or rather a warrior that had been through the most fiery tests of battle. Her teeth clenched. _Raoul. _

As she arrived only a few inches next to his, her body was almost rocketed in back in shock as his words broke the silence. His hands still covered his disfigured face, the voice muffled.

"You are wasting your time, mademoiselle." He paused for a moment to catch his breath, the words compressed through obvious discomfort. "I do not want a whore."

Christine's throat constricted, unknowing how to first respond to him. Kneeling down on the hard ground, she slowly began to extend a hand to touch his marred back. Yet the moment her fingertips lightly brushed against his quavering skin, he recoiled from the ground and lunged at her with a fierce growl, his hand enveloping her slender neck tightly. Christine was pushed back hard against the ground, both hands flying up to loosen the deadly grip he had on her. With almost animalistic rage, he backed her across the floor until she hit the wall, her eyes wide in terror and heart beating wildly. His teeth were barred and the expression on his face grew fierce and brutal.

"Did you not hear me? I do _not _want a whore!" He roared. The long, tousled hair still fell across his face - a face Christine knew was probably painted with pain and rage. With both hands pushing at his chest in a vain effort to drive him away, Christine grew weaker the harder she resisted. As she continued to gasp for breath, his own breathing remained heavy yet began to decelerate. For the first time, he raised his head slightly to look into the woman's face, and his grip loosened entirely, although his hand still remained on her neck. Their faces were now only inches apart; their breaths mingled with each other. Christine whimpered in discomfort, but lifted one hand from her throat to gently push away the dark hair that concealed his both deformed and beautiful features. The moment his eyes met hers, all the life seemed to drain from his body and he pulled back in alarm. He saw his Christine. Shaking his head in disbelief, he pushed away from her as if she were an infectious disease. Christine swallowed hard and looked after him in confusion, her eyes pleading for understanding.

"No! No! No!" Erik clenched his eyes shut and threw his hands up to cover the top of his head, still shaking resolutely. "Why does my mind play games against me? It is not her! It is not true! Forgive me, mademoiselle and go. Go now before I hurt you any more! Oh, why must I succumb to such madness? _Why_?"

His anger had now transformed into deep sobs. He held his head in his hands as he continued to shout at himself to erase the images of Christine from his mind. Yet no matter how much he cried out to forget, the more he saw of her sweet and perfect face. His mind and heart were grieving so deeply over the recent news of her marriage, that he was now envisioning her in the place of a dissolute harlot sent to his cell to torment him further. Perhaps Raoul's ploy had succeeded - the act was driving him to madness, a sentence worse than any physical pain or death. _Oh, Christine! _


	8. In the Angel's Hands

**Chapter Eight: In the Angel's Hands**

Christine's bare knees burned as she pulled herself over to where Erik sat. Her hands were damp from wiping the tears from her own eyes, but she firmly encompassed both of his cheeks in her palms, tilting his face to look into her own.

"Oh, my sweet angel. It truly is me…Christine." Her fingers clutched his dark locks tightly, praying that her touch might cause him to trust her reality. Pulling her body closer to his own, she kissed him fully on the lips, resting her forehead on his as she whispered to him. "Erik - please trust me. I'm here now. I'm here right now with you - body and soul."

His pitiful eyes matched hers. The touch on his lips seemed like a perfect yet impossible dream, but he knew from that embrace that it was her. _His _Christine. Taking a sharp outward breath, he gripped both of her arms with possessive tenderness, then caressed his hands over her face and neck, still speechless in disbelief. Christine, starving for his touch, cupped her face in his large hands as he stroked her, pushing them to her lips as she covered them in kisses. They were rough and calloused, so unlike what she remembered, yet never before had Christine felt anything so wonderful. It was him, and that was all that mattered.

"It cannot be…You are to perfect to be real." He breathed softly, running his down her neck and shoulders, unable to believe that what he was feeling was physically tangible.

"Oh, Erik. Please forgive me! I have wronged you beyond belief." Sadness overtook Erik as the realization hit him. He reluctantly removed his hands that were tangled into her soft curls. The look in his eyes made Christine wish for her own swift death.

Erik turned the disfigured side of his face away from her, suddenly aware of his naked unsightliness. "Nothing can change what has happened, Christine. You have scorned and denied me to no end, but now is when it must. Coming here does nothing but cause pain for us both." Tears burned in Christine's eyes as she looked down at the floor. "You are a vicontesse…"

"A vicontesse? What? No. Erik, I have not married Raoul - I never will."

"You do not love him, then?"

Christine gave a short laugh, aimed mainly toward herself and at her own stupidity. "Love? I loathe him now."

Erik's expression was a mix of sadness and elation. He fell back against the wall in exhaustion next to Christine, who turned to face him, her body pressed closely against his side. Laying a cold cheek on his chest, she kissed him lightly. "Will you not forgive me? I love you! You could never know how much I did to reach you, my love."

Oh, how he loved her, too! Yet his pride was still waging a desperate war against his passion for Christine. No matter how strong their feelings were for each other, she had still wounded him deeper than any physical weapon ever could. At this moment, however, his contained emotions became too great a burden for him to bear any longer. Erik lovingly slid his arm around Christine's waist, who responded by wrapping her own around his neck, clinging tightly to him - wanting more of his touch. Angling her lips up to meet his own, he dove between her inviting lips, years of longing pouring out and into the other. He deepened the kiss, stroking the inside of her mouth with his tongue. His long, sensual hands moved up and down her small dancer's body that now rested on top of him, and he felt her tremble beneath the new sensations he was creating.

"_Touch me…trust me…savour each sensation!"_

Hearing a soft moan escape her lips, his body became consumed with an unquenchable lust. However, upon hearing the noise again, he realized it was not out of pleasure, but rather discomfort. Releasing his embrace momentarily, he stopped to kiss her softly on her temple, but his brow furrowed as the flickering light rested on her face for him to fully see. Concern soon distorted into anger as his fingers lightly rested on her lips and discolored cheekbone. Christine quickly looked away, ashamed.

"My angel, what has happened to you?" He demanded, his voice thick with rage. A large hand moved down to her waist and absentmindedly traced the clasps of the shoddy corselette, his face contorting as he also made note of the torn skirt and lingering scent of cheap French perfume. Christine was now crying again, covering her face in shame and disgust. Erik pulled her closer to him, using caution to not take out his own frustration on her small, delicate frame.

"Oh, Christine…you did not…please tell me…" A muscle in his jaw tightened. The words were far too painful for Erik to even complete. Although the demented look in his eyes frightened Christine, she knew she had to tell him what had happened. Jealousy may drive him mad, yet it was a much better alternative to not speaking the truth. She could not bare the thought that her angel might think she had sacrificed to be with him at _any _cost. Even though she had wronged and betrayed him, Christine felt that the one thing she could give him now was her love and purity. Her trembling hands grasped his white shirt tightly, the warmth of his body through the fabric a strange comfort.

"No, Erik. It is not as it seems. The only way I could get inside was if I pretended to be a prostitute like the others. I gave my clothes to a girl from a brothel outside in exchange for these." A single tear trailed down her cheek, and she used the back of her shawl to brush it away. "It was fine until that man - the same one I saw speaking to Raoul a few months ago - said he knew where you were and would take me to you. The repulsive beast. He tried to…to take me. I tried desperately to fight him, but he became so violent, and…" Her voice trailed off in the cramped chamber.

Erik's jaw was clamped as he watched the painful recollection wash over Christine's angelic face. His entire body stiffened, yet he continued to stroke her hair tenderly, the heat rising from her body reaching deep inside him to his very core.

"Russou?" Every ounce of hatred Erik's possessed poured into that single word.

"Yes." Christine threw her body against him, burying her face into his neck to mute her cries. It was so difficult to remain strong in the Erik's presence. His magnetic power made her feel completely submitted to him like a small child, just as it had been all these years. Seeing her tears nearly caused his own to flow once again, but he remained composed.

"Oh, Erik." She breathed into his ear. "I have never been so frightened in all of my life. I needed you so badly.

The words cut deeply into Erik - it was even beyond anger for the man. His beautiful angel was in distress and he was not there for her. The thought of another man placing his hands on Christine made him feel ill. He stroked her hair softly, wishing that the strong arms cradling her could protect her from all the horrors of the world.

"I have failed you, Christine. But I swear - I will make him pay beyond the fair price for his sins against you. If it is the last thing I do on this earth, his life will be mine. I will take his bloody heart out." The veins protruded from Erik's neck as he spoke in rage.

"Shhhh…don't say that, Erik." Christine hushed him, placing her fingers over his lips. "You have not failed me - it was your music in my head that led me out of the darkness and to you now. Yet had it not been for Francois, I don't know what would happened."

"Francois?" Erik questioned.

"Yes - he is an older guard here who stopped Russou before he went…further." A rosy color crept up Christine's cheeks. Although she loved Erik with in every way a woman can love a man, she was still an innocent girl who was easily embarrassed about such matters. She also felt remorse in dwelling so long on her own trauma, realizing what Erik was forced to endure the past few months. "He was the one who brought me to you."

"I will never leave you, my angel. I promise you that. No harm will ever come to you again." Erik embraced her closer to him, kissing the curls that rested on her forehead. She lifted herself from his chest and sought his lips out again. The wetness of her mouth was intoxicating, and he delved into it. He began to kiss her forcefully and invasively, prying open her mouth and thrusting his tongue inside. Christine was surprised when he broke the deep kiss, only after she had brought a hand to touch the ravaged side of his face. Pulling her hand away, she searched his dark eyes for explanation.

"I am a monster, Christine. A hideous monster." He took both of her small hands and enveloped them in his own. "Look at yourself. You are the picture of beauty. How can I live with the thought of corrupting that?"

Tearing her hand away to touch his face once again, Christine forced Erik to look at her. "_This haunted face holds no horror for me now. _You are beautiful to me. I love you, Erik. I want to give myself to you completely."

"Do not say that if it is only out of pity."

"You think I would lie to you - my angel of music?" Christine questioned.

"_Christine, I love…"_ But before he could whisper the final word in song, Christine engulfed her sweet mouth over his, drawing her hand behind his head to push deeper into him. They both felt as if there were no way to be close enough to each other. Their passion-fused embrace grew deeper and deeper, emitting stifled moans as their tongues rubbed forcefully together inside their mouths. Time seemed to stand still as they melted completely into each other - there were no thoughts of the past nor of the future, only the moments in which their souls were united. Both were gasping for breath as their passions clashed fiercely together, neither one wanting to break the embrace. Erik softened momentarily, pressing his forehead toward Christine's before moving his wanting lips over her own again in enticement. Her eyes shut as he swept his warm mouth over her cheeks, fearing the sight of him paired with his sensual touch would push her to hysteria. Yet his own emerald iris's remained fixated on each and every expression that crossed over her exquisite face, causing his own pleasure to rise at an alarming rate. Her lips cold from his unbearable absence, Christine's eyes fluttered to seek him out once again. She could not help but think how beautiful he was - not a man, but rather an angel given to her alone by God.

Erik's hands softly trailed up her back and down again as she shifted above him. Her thighs were astride his broad hips, their legs resting next to each other on the stone floor. Interrupting the charged kiss, Christine threw her head back in ecstasy, her flowing hair washing over his wandering hands. He drew his lips down her slender throat and over the valley between her neck and collarbone.

The smell of her skin almost driving him to madness, his fingers glided up her ribcage and tentatively rested on her breasts, an area completely foreign to his inexperienced hands. Placing a light, almost chaste kiss on the bare skin above each breast, he gently stroked the firm curves covered by her thin chemise. He stilled momentarily, watching in fascination as her silky white skin heaved in excitement. Oh, how he wanted her so badly, yet he knew this was not the time. His body shuddered as she brought her mouth down to his partially bare chest, her lips gently brushing over his bruises. Erik could feel hot tears falling on his skin as she kissed him, glancing at the lashes that covered his strong body.

They were both completely overcome with desire - years of longing and bottled love now washing over them in wordless need. He clasped her hands together in each of his, their fingers entwining tightly as they pushed back against the chamber wall. God seemed to have created the two to fit together perfectly - each and every curve molding seamlessly into the other. Christine arched her back slightly, the movement causing her pelvis to rub firmly against his most private area. Groaning at the shocking sensation, he kissed her again, tasting the saltiness of her tears - now tears of joy.

Christine also could not help but feel the extent of his firm arousal pressing against the inside of her leg. She moved against him slowly again, her body craving release yet not knowing why or how to go about doing so. Erik's teeth clenched in frustration, fearing too much of her undulations would be his undoing. His surroundings began to grow hazy with pleasure and his body tingled with vague sensations. Her breasts pressed dangerously close to his chest as she leaned forward again to capture his lips in another fervent kiss. His back burned like fire as it scraped against the rough, stone wall, yet no pain could overshadow the unspeakable feelings of bliss he was experiencing with his angel in his arms. As if awakening from a dream, Erik rested his hands on Christine's hips to still her.

Erik's voice was thick and heated."No, Christine. Not here. Not like this." He was met with a saddened look, but Christine understood. He wanted their anticipated union to be extraordinary - an act that was right in every way. She may love him and be more than willing, yet Erik never wanted to feel as if his passion completely controlled him, fearing he would take her by force.

"I know." Christine said as she slid off of him and curled next to his side. "I am yours now and forever." For some strange reason, ever since she was old enough to understand her own body and desires, Christine could never picture herself intimately with any other man than the Angel of Music. And although she vowed to herself to remain pure until marriage, she felt in her heart that Erik should be her husband in every way. Under the circumstances, however, she knew that no man of the cloth would ever marry a wanted murderer and criminal with a woman already bound in promise to another. Their love was created by God, and Christine knew that that was the only blessing she would ever receive - or need.

"Oh, Erik, I have to get you out of this place! Raoul will kill you if you don't leave."

Erik ran the back of his hand over her pale cheek, smiling. "No, my dear, he won't. He knows that I love you too much to end things so easily. And it is true - I would rather be dead than know that you were with that swine."

Christine clung to her angel with even greater intensity, fearing that if she did not do so, he would vanish again from her forever. Pressing her body tightly to his side, she slid one hand under his linen shirt to touch the bare, warm flesh. Erik's cheeks actually blushed crimson at Christine's virgin eyes roaming up and down his hard body, drinking in each and every detail. No woman had ever looked as she did - as if he were the most beautiful creature on earth. He had grown so accustomed to the gasps and shrieks of horror when people of the outside world saw him; the fear that crept into their eyes as they stared at the unknown. Yet Christine had never been that way with him, even when she was a child. She shook her head sadly as her gaze traveled over him.

"What has he done to you? Are you in great pain?"

Erik's eyes green iris's sparkled with boyish charm. "Pain? Me? Of course not! Just a few bumps and scratches, that is all. The phantom of the opera knows no pain - with the exception of having to endure a ghastly-sung aria." His body shook as he chuckled softly, but Christine did not find it so amusing. Her brow wrinkled and tears began to form in her eyes once again.

"Erik…"

Kissing her on the forehead and bringing her head to rest under his chin, he whispered to her reassuringly. "Hush, my angel. No more tears, hmmm? We are together now - no one can ever take that away from us." He held her head against him momentarily, burying his face in her hair and breathing in the sweet scent deeply. Christine lifted her chin up when she felt his entire body shaking through their embrace. Cupping her small face with his hands, Erik looked straight down to her soul with tear-filled eyes. Her eyes rolled back in ecstasy at the tender contact, pushing his hand closer to her white cheek. Every line and curvature of her flawless features was etched into mind like stone. For so long he had subsisted only on such memories, that it was a surreal and glorious feeling that he was now able to experiencing her physically. But Erik knew that such happiness could never last, and the thought sent daggers through his heart.

"Oh, Christine…I cannot bare the thought of losing you again. Promise me that no matter what happens, you will not risk your own self or happiness to spare me. I would rather be fed to the dogs than know you would risk yourself again for my pathetic sake. Promise me, Christine. Say it."

The sad and desperate look in his eyes frightened Christine.

"Erik, don't speak in such a way. I cannot…I will not…"

The phantom moved his grasp from her face to her shoulders, shaking her gently as he pleaded with eyes that burned through her with intensity. Christine clung fiercely to his forearms, unaware that her nails dug into his skin like nails.

"_Promise _me, Christine. Tell me you will. That's all I ask of you." He bellowed with urgency. It was difficult to address her with authority when his throat was constricted with such tightness and emotion."

"I promise." She said reluctantly. Erik eased his body slightly as Christine fell back against him, wrapping herself around his neck and showering him with featherlike kisses. He could feel her heart beating wildly against him. Gently, he grasped a fistful of hair and pulled her head back to face him.

"I don't know if this color suits you that well, my dear. Yet maybe I am tainted from years of looking at the face that Carlotta paints on herself to understand _true _beauty."

They both laughed faintly as Erik's thumb rose to her cheekbone to wipe away a spot of rouge dampened by her tears. The sound seemed so distant and unfamiliar to each of them in the ghostly darkness. He then pressed his lips to hers again ardently, letting himself melt into the soft flesh, savoring each and every blissful sensation. Closing herself against the disfigured side of his face, she grazed his ear lightly with her teeth.

"I love you too much, Erik. It frightens me so. I will never leave you again, my angel - _that _I promise you. _Anywhere you go let me go to…love me - that's all I ask of you."_

Suddenly, a loud commotion from outside the cell door caused both of them to flinch from their reverie. A key clamored in the latch for a moment before finally unlocking the heavy barrier. Erik seized Christine possessively, pulling her up with him as he stood to his feet. His legs were still unstable from such a great amount of blood loss, yet he showed no indication of any weakness to Christine. Grasping her hips, he pushed her behind him like a mother protecting its young and stood resolutely in his place. Christine held the back of his arms tightly, fear coursing through her veins as the door quickly flew open. Erik simply stood there as unmoving as a Greek statue, prepared for whatever may face him on the other side of the door, no matter how daunting. Even though he had already endured hell, he was willing to go through the fires again if it meant protecting the woman he loved with every fiber of his being. He clasped a hand with hers, a wordless action that signified his undying devotion.

But nothing could have prepared Erik or Christine for what approached them. Footsteps could be heard for a few moments before a figure emerged from the inky darkness. Christine's lips pressed against his back to prevent herself from yelling out, and she was certain that her legs would dissolve from under her. Erik gripped her hand tighter and raised his chin in supremacy over the man entering the dark cavity that Erik had inhabited for over six months. Christine nearly fainted dead away as she saw a familiar protrude out of the shadows.

"_Raoul…"_

**Author's Note: **Reader's - please forgive me! I did not intentionally put up my story ending with a cliff-hanger, but not posting what I had done so far was driving me absolutely crazy! I promise that I am currently working on the next two chapters. I really hate authors - especially PhanFic authors - who use this method thinking it will reel in reviews, but that's not my objective (although reviews are _very _loved and appreciated) **WARNING: "SMALL" SPOILER **** **I probably should mention that chapter ten will be the one that we (well, truthfully, mostly myself) will be waiting for in which Erik and Christine will finally get their well-deserved "release." By waiting a few days to finish up the smut, it helps me guarantee myself that it will be better than just throwing something down that trashy and poorly-written. Oooh! I can't wait! Thank you so, so much for reading…_please _review!


	9. A Love That Kills

**Author's Note: Thank you _so,so,so,so very much _everyone for reading and reviewing my little fic - especially the lengthy responses! I would honestly be so overtaken with excitement at seeing that I got a new review, that my great dane, Lex, would actually start barking at me and my hysterics! Poor thing - he really thinks his mother has completely lost it! Anyway, thanks again for being patient for me to get this next chapter up. I suffered from a crippling case of writer's block, but now I really am on a roll! I've been debating for a while on what to do with our dear Raoul, but I think I've finally got it sorted out now. This story will definitely be longer than planned.**

** It's actually quite funny - from this upcoming chapter, it sounds as if I absolutely loathe Raoul (which I really don't) - as he seems to be portrayed as the devil here. I'm sure, however, there are tons of people who _do _hate that blonde picture of perfection, so this one's for you guys! **

**Poor Erik! Things have to start getting better for him…Or will they?**

**Chapter Nine: A Love That Kills**

Raoul's face displayed no expression of rage, hatred, or even emotion as he entered the dark cell where Erik and Christine stood. His demeanor was stony and cold - an even more frightening alternative than had he erupted through the door with hell's fury. The tall, lean frame slinked at a casual yet rhythmic pace towards them, the sound of his heels on the stone floor reverberating off the walls. He was noticeably short of breath, and his golden hair strayed slightly onto his face and forehead from where it had been tied neatly behind his head. Hours seemed to pass as he walked the short distance from the entrance to the forms standing unmoving in the darkness.

Erik tensed his grip on Christine, who responded by grasping his arm again tightly with her other hand. The look on Raoul's face frightened her more than anything - complete emptiness and unfeeling, as if he had no emotional attachment whatsoever to the two other beings inside that room. They could both be killed at that very moment, for all he cared, and it would not be of any consequence to Raoul or his conscience.

"My, Christine, I knew that you behaved like a whore behind my back, but I was not aware you now dressed as one." He sneered.

Erik kept his eyes fixated on Raoul, his expression filled with hatred and contempt towards the vile creature. It was with as much control as he could muster not to lunge at him with full force of his rage.

"You will address me alone, monsieur. Christine has nothing to do with this." Erik commanded through clenched teeth, the feeling of Christine's small body pressed trembling against his giving him a rush of protective instinct. Until he had seen her face again, Erik had given up all hope or reason to fight against Raoul - until now. "Or are you too much of a coward to face me yourself ? Without your incompetent goons to do the unpleasantries for you."

Raoul laughed deeply, his eyes looking up and down Erik with disgust. "Oh, no, my friend! Do you think I would dirty my hands any more with you? And I would not call your situation _unpleasant_ - for me, least. Yes - nothing has brought me more joy than seeing your own repulsive body suffer."

His eyes darted over to Christine, who still clung steadfastly to the phantom. "I do not understand what you see in this - _creature. _This grotesque monster.He may _seem_ so brave and heroic now, guarding you like a dog, yet I should tell you how he cried like a girl for mercy when we beat him - how he recant his admissions of love for you as he begged us to stop the pain. It seems your angel is only a man after all - full of blood and weakness."

Christine's eyes burned with abhorrence toward her fiancée. "You speak nothing but lies, Raoul! You are the spineless coward, not him!" She moved from behind Erik to charge against Raoul in protest, but was caught firmly by the arms before she was more than a foot away.

"No, Christine! Let it be." Erik growled softly as he pulled her back closer to him. Christine glanced at him briefly before returning her enraged stare back to Raoul, who stood looking almost amused at the situation. This infuriated Christine even more, and her cheeks flushed deep crimson in agitation.

Raoul laughed again sardonically. "The phantom of the opera? Only a façade for a depraved, revolting man without chance in even the lowliest of society. Why, even the gypsies found you too atrocious - what makes you think Christine loves you any more than out of pity? You are nothing more than a discarded piece of waste that nobody else wants to deal with. I am doing the world a favor in taking care of you myself."

"It is not me that offends you, boy, is it?" Erik questioned, stepping closer into the dim light towards Raoul. "It is the fact that she does not return your love, least of all reject you for some loathsome creature like myself, am I not right?"

Erik shone a menacing smile, tilting his head so the marred side faced Raoul only inches away. He drew closer and closer to Raoul with each impassioned phrase. "How upsetting it must be for you - knowing no matter what you do to me, you can never win! Knowing each kiss you give her, your lips become mine in her mind. Every thought in her mind, every note she sings - all will be for her angel of music. Each look, each touch, each breath - she will wish only for me - for _this."_ His finger rose upward, pointing heatedly towards his disfigured face. Raoul's fists only clenched tighter at his sides until his knuckles turned white against his dark trousers.

"The idea drives you mad, does it not?" Erik demanded. "I would die for her to prove my love, and you…you would give her up the moment you've had her - like a used horse who's outlived its purpose." Raoul only stood fuming in silence, desperately wanting to destroy this man's life permanently, yet not having the courage to make the first move. No matter how much power Raoul held or what weakened state his enemy was in , Erik still intimidated him to the highest degree. Christine tugged persistently at Erik's torn, white shirt, pleading for him to stop before something happened he could not prevent.

"Erik, _please…_don't do this" she implored with desperation, but her pleadings for the wounded man only fueled Raoul's burning jealousy. Without saying a word, Raoul nodded his head to the side, signaling two men to emerge from the entryway. As they drew closer, one of the figures caused Christine's knees to grow weak and Erik's face to contort with indescribable wrath.

"Why you filthy bastard!" Erik roared as he broke from Christine and threw himself towards Russou. "You will pay for dishonoring her!"

Raoul quickly stepped back and grabbed Christine before she could ensue Erik, and she struggled with all her strength to free herself from the long, slender arms that snaked around her waist and constricted the more she fought. It was not more than a few moments before the second guard's gun came down hard against Erik's back, inches away from reaching Russou's sneering face. Christine screamed out in horror as she continued to fight frantically against Raoul's rigid constraint. Russou lifted a soiled boot to kick Erik brutally in the side, causing the air to gush from his chest and impede his breathing. They both gruffly carted Erik to his feet, dragging him closer to their patron.

"Stop it!" Christine yelled turning to Raoul with sorrowful-filled eyes to plead on her lover's behalf. "Oh, please, Raoul! Please stop this madness!"

Raoul compressed Christine's face firmly between one of his hands, turning her head to look into his demented eyes. "Tell, me Christine, why should I do that, hmmm? Why should I do anything you ever ask of me? You have done nothing but deceive me - betray and deceive me! How can I ever trust you will not go back to him?" Christine's eyes shut tightly in fear as he yelled the words into her face. A tear formed in the corner of her eye and trailed down his hand as she snapped them open again to look at Erik, his face silently fighting so much pain and sadness.

"So what shall be done with you, _angel?_" Raoul taunted as the guards brought him closer. Erik slowly lifted his head, his expression the epitome quiet confidence as he gave a sideways smirk. Much to Raoul's dislike, there was no sign of indignation present anywhere on Erik's face.

"You do as you please, monsieur. It means nothing to me."

The imprudent remark made Raoul bristle even more, and he began to breath heavily in extreme vexation, at a loss for words or action. The muscle in his jaw tightened as he noticed the amorous way Christine looked after Erik. Her eyes did not leave his for a moment, and tears of anguish continued to fall freely down her face. Raoul shook her roughly and brought a hand up her chest to wrap lightly around her slender neck. He placed his chin in the crook of her shoulder, whispering into her ear loudly enough for Erik to hear.

"Did you hear that, Christine? From his own lips - he does not love you. He cares for nothing but his own pathetic self. Maybe you should be held accountable for his crimes - that would surely teach him a lesson. He may not feel the lashes across his back, but I can not say it will be the same for you!" Christine began to squirm as his grip around her began to tighten. Only then did Erik begin to struggle against the two guards ferocity.

"Let her go!" his voice bellowed, watching with helplessness as Raoul held Christine in front of him like bait, taunting him menacingly.

Raoul was now uncontrollable. Although he loved Christine, he could not help but experience an intoxicating feeling of power and control wash over him as he held her small body with animalistic strength. She was _his, _and he reveled in the fact that he could flaunt his domination of her right in front of her lover's eyes. Never again would he play the fool - he was not about to make the same mistake twice. Raoul loosened his hand slightly and placed a lingering kiss upon her moist cheek, only raising his eyes to address Erik.

"No matter what she feels, _monsieur_, it does not change the fact that she _will _be mine." Raoul's delicate hands swept over her bare shoulders. He no longer held her closely, yet her body was too frozen to move in any direction. He pushed his nose and mouth into her dark tresses, drinking in the pure scent as his eyes rolled back in enchantment.

"So much beauty." He murmured softly into her hair. Christine's body shivered at his strange, wispy touch. For a moment, he seemed transported to another world, and he brushed his lips over her porcelain shoulder and forearm. Yet the moment he moved to kiss her again on the cheek, he sensed her entire body tense at his contact as she turned her face away from him. His eyes flew open in agitation and he pressed his mouth against her ear.

"YOU WILL BE MINE!" he roared, the final word echoing twice in the stone enclosure. The painful noise stung inside Christine's mind, and she bit her lip to prevent crying out. "She will learn to love me as I love her, and if she does not…it will not matter, for she will still be my wife and mine alone!"

Raoul grabbed Christine by the wrist and threw her with force to a corner of the cell. Her small body hit the wall violently and collapsed to the ground, racked with sobs.

"Christine!" Erik exclaimed. The muscles in his arms and chest swelled as he strained with all his power to escape the guard's restraint. He resembled a wild animal being captured from its mate - teeth barred, hair flying over his distorted face, guttural noises escaping his throat. "Curse you! How dare you treat her in such a way!"

Taking a step closer towards Erik, Raoul lifted a hand to smooth back his flaxen hair and took a small breath inwards to collect himself.

"Oh, my good monsieur. The days are past in which I fear your grasp over her, and you are right - the game has come to an end. I tried keeping you alive, but look where that decision has led me!" Raoul motioned to Christine, who was on her knees, clutching the wall with trepidation. "The poor thing! Look what you have done to her! You have seduced, corrupted, and endangered her - who will believe that your death was not justified? Who will doubt her safety with me - her guardian and benefactor?"

Erik would not honor him with a response. Instead, he held Christine with his deep eyes, their bodies pressed together in spirit. "I would rather endure an eternity of deaths than spend a lifetime without one moment of your voice in my head, angel. Whatever I have done, it has been for you. I love you, Christine. Never disbelieve that."

Christine put a hand over her heart and calmly nodded her head, freeing tears from her eyes and down her face. All color washed from Raoul's face at the phantom's passionate declaration. His fist clenched and planted itself firmly into Erik's belly. Raoul hovered above him as his upper body sagged downwards in response to the excruciating blow, yet was still held up by Russou and the other guard. "Very well. I am sure your request can be promptly arranged."

Raoul jerked Erik's head up by his hair, breathing hotly into the marred side of his face as he spoke. "But remember this, _phantom of the opera, _as you lay dying, suffering and alone, know that she will pay for her sins against me. Even our children will know what a whore their mother was, and the horrifying monster that brought her to ruin." Raoul began to feel even braver with the security of the two guards at close bay, and stepped within even closer range of Erik. "May the last thought in your head be of her with me - her _husband._ You may have her affection, but you will never have what I now possess…_Christine!_"

Erik twisted from under Raoul's grasp, continuing to struggle against the two guards and taste vengeance upon this wicked creature. Undoing his leather belt, Raoul strode briskly behind Erik and bound his hands tightly together, speaking into his ear in a sinister tone.

"The devil's child shall be sent back to where he belongs! The angel in hell is your proper title!" He turned his head to signal the man on his right.

"Russou!" The burly guard released his hold of Erik momentarily to retrieve a long rope that lay coiled loosely on the ground. Christine gasped in terror as Raoul slipped the noose around Erik's neck and walked leisurely in front of him like a wolf encircling its prey, pushing the thick knot closer towards his chin. Erik swallowed deeply, yet gave no intimation of any fear or apprehension. In fact, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as Russou threw the tail of the loop over a concrete beam near the center of the cell.

"What a frightened boy you are!" Erik commented dryly. "Why, if I recall, even your father had to pay for the affections of a woman - your dear mother, for instance. I must have terrified you beyond words for you to sacrifice so much…even your dignity, in the process."

Raoul's eyes blazed with fire. He choked the knot of the noose longer than necessarily, seething at this potent and impervious being that seemed impossible to destroy. Raoul backed slowly away, his eyes searching Erik's face for any sign of fear or submission, but he was unsuccessful. Erik passed his eyes over to Christine - eyes of a man that carried all the love of the world with only a single glance.

"Erik, no!" Christine cried, her expression painted with torment and angst. She frantically looked over to Raoul, grasping his stiffened arm with hands that shook uncontrollably.

"Please, Raoul! I will do anything…just spare him…have mercy on him as he did with you! I beg of you, Raoul! Don't do this!" It was a situation beyond all reasoning, as Christine soon discovered, as Raoul remained frozen, his eyes glazed over as he watched Erik struggle for his life. Her large eyes darted back to her angel, who only gave her a loving and grateful smile.

"You promised me, my angel." he whispered, the words difficult to pass through his throat constricting with welling emotion. "You were my life, Christine. I cannot carry on with you…_but I'll always be there singing songs in your head. I'll always be there singing songs in your head…_Oh, Christine. _My_ sweet Christine."

Without any thought than to hold him once more, Christine cried out his name and ran towards him. Engulfing her arms around his waist, she pinned her tear-stained cheek against his own. Erik closed his eyes and pressed the unscathed portion of his face fervently against her, dwelling in the indescribable sensation of flesh against flesh. As she lifted a hand to cradle his opposite cheek, he swiftly turned his head to capture her palm with his lips. Christine united his lips passionately with her own, a small cry escaping her mouth at the realization it was their final embrace. More than anything he wanted to wrap her in his arms and tell her all would be fine, but he could not do that, even if it was the truth. Before she could tell him how much she loved him and how sorry she was, Raoul gruffly pulled her back, his hand tight around the back of her neck.

"No, Raoul! Please, wait…" she cried, but it was useless. He was tired of hearing her outbursts over such a despicable fiend. Holding her firmly by the wrists, Raoul nodded his head in signal to Russou.

Erik shook his head softly and tried to reassure her to the best of his ability. "_Past the point of no return…the final threshold - the bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn…We've past the point of…"_ The rope began to grow taut as Russou hoisted it carefully over the heavy girder. A tear fell down the ravaged side of Erik's face, undetected to all but Christine. "…_No return."_

**A/N: (and maybe spoilers) Okay, so that's not the end - even though it sounds like it! Don't worry…it's not what it seems. I love Erik too much to do anything _that _crazy! Please let me know what you think. My writing thrives on your responses! **


	10. Retribution

**Chapter Ten: Retribution**

Christine rose to her feet and outstretched her arm to him, the only words she could find were what her angel wanted to her - in music. Although her mouth was parched and her throat tight with grief, she was able to retrieve enough of her voice to sing part of the first aria she had ever sung with his guidance. It seemed so very long ago… "_Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye. Remember me once in a while - please promise me you'll try."_

She turned her head downwards to shield her eyes as Russou pulled the thick rope towards him, lifting Erik's feet a few inches from the ground. The burly guard snarled with satisfaction, a face that soon distorted into pain upon feeling the lump on his head begin to throb. The painful sensation fueled his anger, as well as his zeal for the task at hand.

"Come now, little Lotte." Raoul hissed, positioning her head back to Erik. "It is you who brought this upon yourself - you will watch him die."

Erik's legs unconsciously began to kick against the ground for leverage as the rope grew shorter and shorter, slowly draining all air from his body. His mouth opened silently, gasping for breath that would not come. Raoul stood motionless as he watched his rival struggle for life with demented fascination. He had never felt so powerful - so in control - in all of his life. Yet with such exhilaration also came an anxious sensation that settled deep into the pit of his stomach over the thought of killing another man. The fleeting thought soon dissipated, however, as he was reminded again of his jealously. All the brightness and beauty that once shone on Christine's face was now replaced with sorrow and hatred towards him. _And it is all because of him…this thing that corrupts our love. _Raoul thought to himself.

Christine threw her hands up to cover her eyes once again. "No..no…oh, Erik…" She murmured repeatedly. Feeling as if the world were crumbling before her, she sank to her knees, burying her face in her hands as she wept uncontrollably. "You will never be dead to me, Erik. _Never." _

Forcing herself to look into his eyes once more, Christine lifted her head slowly. She could not desert him now, no matter how painful it felt to watch him leave her. Erik's body gradually began to still, but his eyes still remained fixated on his angel, just as they always had been.

Erik's body shuddered as Russou heaved the weight at the end of the rope again. His forehead perspired heavily while he strained powerlessly for breath. With the final lungful of air he possessed, Erik spoke only one word in a choked, raspy voice. "_Chris…tine."_

Suddenly, as if the single word was a prayer for his deliverance, the door of the cell flew open. Through the darkness, it was almost impossible to make out any clear distinction of the two figures that loomed in the entryway, but their presence received the attention of everyone in the room. Once again, François had appeared with the most opportune of timing. This time, however, he was armed with a gun and a second guard who stuck close to his side. Both Russou and Raoul faced them with expressions marred in contempt and annoyance.

"Get out of here, you damn fool!" Russou growled, keeping a firm hold of the rope between his hands.

Francois walked closer. Sensing the precarious situation the prisoner was presently in, he knew he had to act quickly before it was too late. "Not this time. Now, release him before somebody else gets hurt."

"Who do you think you are, old man? Russou, how did he get in here!" Raoul demanded. He grabbed Christine and pulled her closer to where the intruders stood.

"I have already alerted the police - I suggest you comply now before…before it gets any worse for you. You're already guilty of unlawful imprisonment and torture, not to mention _attempted_ murder." Francois glanced worriedly at the man slowly slipping into unconsciousness.

"Ha! The police! I know they would love to finally ensnare our clever friend themselves - a wanted, felonious murderer!" Raoul jeered.

Without changing his austere expression, Francois turned his glance over questioningly to Christine, who responded despondently with only a small nod. Whatever this man had allegedly done, Francois thought, it was obviously not enough to lose the love of such a valiant and remarkable woman. He aimed the gun toward Russou, his voice stern. "Free him…_now!"_

Russou gave a malignant smile and released a low, dark laugh from his belly. He pulled again on the rope with added zeal, his threatening eyes not backing down from the older guard's bluff. A soft groan escaped Erik's mouth at the sharp jerk of the noose.

"What are you going to do, hmmm? Shoot me?" His yellow teeth flickered in the dim lantern-light, and something inside of Francois snapped. He squeezed his finger gently on the trigger, the explosion causing everyone in the room to jump from their positions. Even Russou, who gasped inwardly from the close hit, seemed to be just as surprised at the action. The rope darted upwards from his hands as he clutched his chest tightly, blood beginning to expand at a brisk pace from under his shirt. Both he and Erik collapsed to the hard floor concurrently, gasping for air. Crimson liquid began to pool underneath the heavy guard, and he writhed on the ground like a fish thrown onto land. After only a few brief grunts and moans, Russou's body lay still and silent, his beady eyes still open towards his assailant, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth.

Raoul stood speechless in disbelief. Yanking free from his grasp, Christine threw herself down towards the ground where Erik lay, smiles intermittently breaking her cries as she tore the noose off from around his neck. She cradled his head on her lap, running her fingers through his dark hair as he coughed intensely, struggling for breath.

"Breathe, my love. Breathe…" she commanded him quietly, rocking her body back and forth. He finally took a deep inward breath, his body shuddering as he relaxed into her arms. Christine rested her hand gently on his heaving chest, close to his heart, a brilliant smile overtaking her angelic face as he covered her small hand with his own.

"I'm right here, my angel. I always will be." She whispered into ear.

Raoul's appearance was the picture of a man consumed with rage and madness - his body was rigid, his blonde hair wild, his countenance burning like fire. He grit his teeth together tightly and took short, shallow breaths in effort to contain the frenzied ire that grew steadily inside him. Darting his eyes over to the second guard which had entered with Russou for support, he was met with only firm shake of the head and a set of hands raised in mock innocence.

Francois addressed the guard. "I think it wise you take your leave, man, before the police get here. That is, unless you want to be also implicated in this situation. I am sure the head of this asylum would _love_ to know that its officers have been involved in anything…shall I say, unlawful - as our dear friend here became all too aware of." The man looked quickly from Raoul to the guard lying dead on the stone floor before cautiously making his way toward the door, lifting his gun in submission. Francois shot him a menacing look as he snaked past, yet it was more than likely the gun held threateningly towards his direction that prompted the brisk retreat. Raoul fumed with even greater intensity. He started to charge towards the pair on the ground, but the spine tingling sound of Francois' gun cocking for a second time made him stop dead in his tracks.

"And don't think I won't do it again - if the need arises." The older guard threatened coldly.

Erik's breathing slowly progressed to normal, although his body was still extremely weak from the distress he had experienced. Christine clung fiercely to his side, silently vowing to herself that she would never release him again. While Francois' gun remained resolutely pointed towards Raoul, the second guard passed him in the entryway to come to their aid. Erik wrapped an arm around Christine's shoulders and the man who kneeled at his side to help him rise to his feet. Raoul watched in contempt.

"You simply will not die, phantom." He hissed with a disgusted shake of his head. Erik tilted his face upwards towards him.

"You are simply a bad sport at it." He mocked softly.

The sound of the police descending the deep stairwell reverberated down the passageway and into the cell. Apart from the resounding noise to note their arrival, a light grew brighter through the doorway with each amplified step the men took down the stone structure. Francois strove hastily towards Erik and Christine.

"Quickly! You must go now! They mustn't find you here."

Christine guided Erik as fast as allowed towards the door, looking over her shoulder once at Raoul with loathing, knowing in her heart she would see him again - someday. She pressed her weight against Erik to steady him, locking her fingers with his hand that draped behind her slender waist. They stopped only briefly to acknowledge Francois, still doggedly guarding their aggressor.

"What will happen to you, Francois?" Christine questioned. "The police will still hold you accountable for…"

"Never mind me, child. I may be old and foolish, but I am not a fool." He chuckled. "Now _listen…"_ He commanded sternly, his eyes glancing up at the darkness in the doorway slowly becoming illuminated. Time was of the essence.

"You must go through the underground canal that leads into the city. Go out this door and down the passageway. You will come to it shortly - listen for the sound of water. It goes for about a mile and may be difficult, but it will guide you to safety - and undetected. When you reach a dead end, go right - you should be directly under the outside of the Louvre. It is up to you from there. Whatever you do, do _not_ turn back, understand? Godspeed!"

Christine touched his bristly cheek tenderly. "Thank you. You have saved our lives…more than once today."

He tried to appear ascetic and respond with only a curt nod, but her blinding beauty and simple act of appreciation warmed his soul. It was impossible for him to not smile at her - much like a young schoolboy. Dropping his gun slightly, he moved aside to allow them to pass. Yet in those fleeting moments of distraction, Raoul cunningly slipped his hand inside his dark jacket, extracting a small, silver object he gripped tightly within his sweaty palm. His body shook with irrepressible anger - although his blood began to grow hot, his heart was fast turning cold. Almost instinctively, he released a deep, savage yell as he hurtled towards Erik, brandishing his knife wildly in the air. Christine screamed at the blood curling sound even before she realized what was happening.

"She is _MINE!" _he roared.

Erik was the first one to turn around. He pushed Christine behind him, shielding her, as he reached his hand out to capture Raoul's wrist. Even weakened, Erik still harnessed more power than a few men combined, regardless of the fact that he was determined not to lose Christine now - not after all of this - not ever. Raoul's arm remained immobile as the phantom constricted his vice-like grip. Their guttural noises mingled with one another as they fought - strength against will.

"You honor yourself." Erik scolded. It was only when Raoul's other fist crashed into Erik's already-bruised side, that severe pain forced himself to relinquish his stronghold. He staggered sideways for a moment, clutching his side - a moment that was only needed for Erik to bring up his weapon and finally end it…once and for all.

"Raoul…" Christine pleaded for him to stop, yet her final word could not be heard through the sound of gunpowder erupting within the barrel of Francois' gun. Raoul cried out in pain, his knife slipping through his slender fingers and crashing to the ground before his own body. He gripped his thigh closely, whimpering as he brought his hand up to see it stained with blood.

Francois lowered his gun and gave Raoul an unapologetic look. He had warned him, after all. "Go, now! Hurry, before it is too late."

The sounds from the staircase grew louder and louder. Christine grabbed Erik by the arm before he collapsed himself, taking no notice whatsoever of Raoul. The phantom's face was drawn and wan, and a cold sweat broke out upon his brow and soaked through his ragged shirt. Pulling his arm around her shoulder, she steadied him as he stood upright. It was clear he had more resilience than any other man ever created, as he practically lifted Christine to the doorway himself. Wielding only a small torch for guidance, they flew from the condemned cell and into the dark unknown, the sound of Raoul's voluble sniveling and cries of misery even overshadowing the tumult of the approaching police.

They traveled down the black passageway at a slightly slowed pace, as Erik's weakness hindered them from moving faster. For a moment, he stopped to lean against the stone wall, his face grimacing in pain as he clutched his throbbing side. Christine ran her hand over his cheek - his skin was flushed and as hot as smoldering coals.

"Are you alright? Erik - you're burning up." Christine asked with fear, her eyebrows narrowing as she searched his pained face.

He placed a hard reassuringly on her shoulder. "I'm fine, Christine." He said gruffly. "Come..We must make haste."

Catching his breath, he clasped her hand in his and continued onward. After only a few minutes, the sounds from behind them grew fainter and fainter before dissapearing altogether. Even with the lantern, they were walking in complete ignorance. The dark tunnel covered their bodies and surroundings entirely, and it was assuredly not a conforting feeling. However, a strange and welcoming sound began to resonate in between the stone walls. Erik stopped Christine abruptly, raising his finger to his lips.

"Do you hear that?" he asked as he turned his head, listening intently.

Christine nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Water! Look - I think it it this way."

Although the sound grew louder in pursuit of it, they began to grow disheartened upon not finding its source. It was not until another five minutes of walking did they finally reach a small set of widened steps that winded down to a steep stone embankment. Walking cautiously towards the water's edge, Erik held the lantern outwards to asses the situation. The canal was not anything like the waterways beneath the Paris operahouse, the same channels that first brought Christine to her angel's lair - the same ones that guarded Erik's dismal isolation from a world he loathed. The water flowed at a brisk, almost dangerous current, spiraling in all directions as it surged into obscurity. Christine's wavered slightly in trepidation, relieved that the darkness shielded her fear from Erik. He turned to his angel, lacing her fingers with his and holding them between their faces. Placing a lingering kiss on the back of her hand, he scanned her face for any sign of masked concern.

"We can do this, Christine. Take hold of my hand and do not let go. The current will be strong, so we must not be separated. No matter what happens, you must _not _let go of my hand."

Christine swallowed deeply and nodded her head silently in understanding.

"I trust you." She replied simply without any hesitation in her voice.

Handing Christine the flickering torch, Erik crouched down on the embankment and slowly eased himself into the rushing water. His eyes widened suddenly as the full force of the freezing liquid hit his body. Helpless to prevent a small laugh at the shocking sensation, he pushed back his hair and swore silently.

"What is it?" she asked with confusion.

"Cold. Just a bit…_cold_."

But the coldness was beyond all measure of temperature - it felt as the equivalent of knives being jabbed quickly and numerously into already freezing skin. However, Erik thought it wise not to to her exactly such.

"Okay, my dear. Time for a swim!" he joked. Resting the torch on the edge of the stone embankment, he found a groove to steady himself with his foot while he used both arms to lower Christine in front of him, positioning his body to take the brunt of the frigid impact. She sucked in a lungful of air in shock. The shock soon melted into pain, while pain eventually eased into numbness. He held her tightly to his chest with one hand as he reached for the torth with the other.

"Erik, I - I can't even feel my legs? How are we suppose t-to swim?" she stammered. He replied with a crooked grin that brought warmth to Christine's heart.

"We don't." he said matter-of-factly, releasing his hand from the ridge and allowing the water to push their bodies into the dark unknown.

**A/N: Poor little Raoul (ha, ha, ha!) Nobody loves him..boo hoo. What a naughty young man he is! You must all agree that he definitely deserved that little bit of comeuppance. Well, since I am getting really tired of beating on our poor Erik, I am _so _ready to get his sexy, phantom side on! I think I'll go do a little "research" for my story and watch all GB flicks in a little Gerry-a-thon! Let's just say it may be chilly now, but things will most assurandly heat up in the next and following chapters - that is, if Erik and Christine ever get out of this infernal place! **


	11. Hard Truths

It was nearly ten agonizing minutes before the frigid underground water hit a large, vertical stone barrier that drained further into a large reservoir and throughout the city. Erik and Christine's bodies' collided into the massive iron grate with brute force, the suction from the water pressure making it almost impossible to move in any direction. Although Erik's heavier frame was able to withstand the force by holding steadfastly to the thick bars with one arm, Christine felt herself slowly being sucked downwards. She gasped deeply for air in panic before feeling the water pull down her small body. However, the impact was so sudden, her lungs quickly filled with liquid instead. Erik struggled with all his strength to pull her back to the surface while still keeping his grip to prevent being sucked downwards himself. His muscles strained intensely as he locked his jaw and used every ounce of his power to lift her towards him.

After Christine's head emerged from the water, her body was racked with coughs as she tried to clear her throat and lungs. Erik quickly moved his grasp from her forearm to clamped firmly about her waist for greater security. Pressing her tightly to his chest as if she were simply a part of him, Erik began to look anxiously around his surroundings for a method of escape. An exit soon became obvious from a single cone of light beaming down from the dark tunnel's ceiling. Leading to it was only a series of metal handles embedded into the jagged stone. The daunting ladder - only a few feet away from reach - seemed to be the only outlet to safety. Yet even a few feet could feel like a mile with the strong current against them.

The roaring of the water as it poured into the giant reservoir was deafening. Erik hoisted Christine further up out of the water's reach, binding his muscular arm around the top of her thighs before slowly inching his way towards the first iron rung. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and leaned into his shoulder, all power in her legs completely deadened from the water's icy encasing. His wounded hands canvassed the jagged barrier in search of strong hold. Once he felt the cold iron beneath his fingers, he constricted his powerful grip and pulled himself and Christine towards it. Erik wavered momentarily, the pain in his hands shooting down his arms and back. As well as a bone in his hand, two of his fingers had been broken - the sharp hurt excruciating. He knew it would be only a short time before the pain controlled him completely.

Quickly slipping his forearm under the metal to relieve the mounting pressure in his hand, he bit down firmly on his lip to harness the intense discomfort.

"Christine, quickly… reach up for this bar. Don't worry, I'm right behind you." Nodding her head quickly, she reached an outstretched hand to lift herself out of his arms. She looked back down at him tentatively, grasping the iron between her fingers with all her might.

"Erik…"

He nodded his head assumingly. "You must climb Christine! I know it is hard, but it is our only way out! I have you.."

Christine slowly turned her head back towards the ray of light that fell over her frightened face. Although she was telling her body to move, her limbs felt foreign to her, as if controlled by some other being entirely. Her right leg trembled briefly before slowly rising to meet the next step. She could hear Erik's labored breathing below her, a sound that reminded her how quickly she needed to reach the top - and safety. The distance between each rung seemed like an eternity to Christine, who willed herself not to look down into the depths that grew below her.

Upon reaching one of the final steps to their escape, Christine's bare foot only skimmed the bar as she pushed her weight onto it, causing her body to slip abruptly. With only half a second to catch the bar with her frozen hands, it was not enough. She let out a sharp scream as her stomach dove down with her just over a foot. A moment of sheer relief washed over her, however, as she felt Erik's strong arm grasp her firmly by the arm, pinning her against the wall with his thigh as he fought to hoist both of their weight towards the top. Her body still shaking tremulously, Christine continued to grasp one bar at a time. She could feel the heavy beating of Erik's heart on her back as he pressed his body into hers to prevent another mishap.

"Hold on Christine. We're almost there." He pushed his mouth to her ear, speaking through her dark, saturated curls.

Slowly they progressed, until finally they arrived at the top where a round metal grate was the only thing hindering them from the surface ground. Christine clung tightly to the bars as Erik pushed himself up to lift the heavy barrier out of the way. He gave a quick and grateful glance back down below towards the rushing waters as he pushed Christine into the light of the outside world. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light, as he had grown accustomed to months in his dark confinement. After Christine reached the welcoming ground of the cobblestone street, Christine turned to Erik on her knees, grasping his forearms and mangled shirt in an effort with all that was left inside her to lift him up to safety.

The moment Erik's body collapsed snow-covered ground, Christine's own small frame fell upon him in relief, both of them breathing heavily. The corner of Erik's mouth curled slightly as he looked up at the twilight. The skies of Paris at dusk were breathtaking - streaks of pink and blue tinted by the smoke rising from the rooftops. It was an endless darkness he was not accustomed to, so open and beautiful. Snow fell lightly from the heavens, dusting their bodies. Christine lifted her head from Erik's chest to take in their surroundings. They were in the middle of a fairly deserted alleyway - the only other presence was a heavy, shabbily-dressed woman watching the pair with curiosity in front of her back door.

Christine's large, brown eyes sought contact with the woman standing rigidly only a few away. "Please…please, will you help us? We are in great danger…"

Before Christine could plead any further, however, the woman tilted her chin up with indifference and slowly retreated back inside of her squalid quarters. The sound of the latch locking into place echoed throughout the darkening passageway. Chills ran up and down Christine's spine at the realization of how vulnerable and destitute they were. They were without money, clothes, food or shelter; the snow continuing to fall steadily and increase the danger to their already damp bodies.

"Erik, we have to get out of the c-cold." Christine said through chattering teeth. Kneeling behind him, she put her hands under his shoulders to help him stand. His face contorted in pain only briefly before turning to Christine, his expression a mask of unwavering confidence. The piercing look of his green eyes Christine adored so much made her heart grow warm, even if her body was shaking uncontrollably. What meager clothing they wore was already soaked with water, the frigid air making their limbs stiff and their blood run painfully cold.

Erik wrapped an arm around Christine's waist and pulled her close to him. "This way. We must hurry - the police will be after us both now."

They slowly began to retreat down the dark alley, the sound from the street muted and distant. Thankfully, the darkness added some degree of cover to the sad pair walking in the shadows of Paris. With so few people on the streets, no questions were asked about the disfigured man and his beautiful companion in such a wet, disheveled state. The city was sleepy - most of the activity, if any, occurring in the small rooms above the numerous shops, bakeries, and restaurants across from the magnificent Louvre. A small man on tall wooden stilts ambled down the white streets, making his rounds in lighting each lantern hanging high above the ground.

Erik's gait was stunted, each step he took more painful than the last. After a few minutes of walking, they paused momentarily in front of the Louvre.

"We need to leave the city. It's far too dangerous for us if we stay." Erik said quietly. He brushed Christine's ghostly cheek with the back of his hand, then tipped her chin up towards him. "Are you alright?"

Christine nodded her head numbly. "Yes. Just take me as far away from this place as possible."

Erik glanced over his shoulder. He was still able to see the top of the majestic Opera Populaire - the only home he had ever known. It was his life, his prison, and a place in which he could never return. Yet had it not been for the infamous operahouse, he would have never heard his angel sing - the same angel he now held with such fierce love and protection in his arms. It did not matter to him that they would be forced to live a life as fugitives, constantly living in seclusion. He had endured this harsh reality of life for as long as he could remember, yet now, it would be with the one he loved above all else. But as much as Christine claimed to love him in return, he could not help but question whether or not she truly desired to leave a future of opulence and privilege to be the wife of a lowly, deformed man. As much as he wanted Christine, he loved her too much to let her throw her life away on him.

Slowly turning his head back to Christine, she was confused by the sadness that welled deep in his eyes. He swallowed hard, cupping her face in his crippled hand.

"What - what is it, Erik? What is the matter?" She questioned him with concern.

Erik took a short breath outwards that visually lingered in the air between their faces. Each time he looked upon her, he was captivated be her staggering beauty. _What does she see in me?_

"It's not too late, Christine."

She looked at him as if he were a stranger standing before him. "What in heavens do you mean by that?"

"I mean that it's not too late for you to go back…to him. Christine, you know I can never give you even a portion of what he offers you. I cannot bear the thought of making you wallow in my own cursed misfortunes. It is your choice…I will not hold you against you will…"

It was with all possible internal restraint to prevent Christine from hitting Erik hard across the face. Instead, she raised her hand to rest her fingers over his pale lips.

"Do not ever say such things." She commanded, an icy tear falling down her cheek. "You have something Raoul will never have - my love. I wish to never see his face again."

Erik covered her hand with his own, pushing it against his mouth to kiss her fingertips.

Christine continued, wanting to assure Erik of her sincerity. "I will never, _ever _go back to him, Erik. I don't care if he owns the entire city of Paris, he will never have my love, only my hate."

Her comforting words caused Erik to sigh in relief. He planted a lingering kiss on her lips, then broke the embrace with a rakish grin. "I am very glad to hear that, my dear. Come, we must make haste before we freeze in this wretched cold."


	12. The Pain of Pleasure

For hours they continued down the streets of Paris, drifting amid the shadows cast by the glowing moonlight. Snow continued to fall lightly from the gray sky, covering their footsteps as they walked at a painfully slow pace. After miles of walking in the frigid night air clad in only the ragged clothes on their back, they found themselves drifting by the cemetery where Christine's father lay still under the white ground. The massive trees that lined the wide dirt road which led into the city swayed menacing in the wind, their limbs reaching out to the pair as they moved stiffly down the path. Christine tightened her grip on Erik's side, the frightening noises making her body tremble with even greater force.

It was almost a different world as they continued to venture past the main city's borders and into the Parisian countryside. The unending fields were lush with wheat and interspersed with symmetrical grape vineyards. A few grand chateaus were scattered over the rich soil, owned primarily by wealthy members of parliament who desired a residence outside the mixed-class and crowded life of the city. Yet these homes were by no means examples of typical "country" living. These majestic estates were erected from gold and the finest of materials, stocked with a household of staff, and encircled with massive trees to guard against common onlookers. The lights from the chateau windows sprinkled in the night sky sporadically like stars.

"Wait!" Christine shouted, grabbing Erik by the arm as she gazed out across a large, open field. In the distance sat the faint outline of a darkened estate resting at the end of a winding brick path guarded by red-bricked pillars.

"Erik - I know this place. I have an idea…"

† † † †

Erik and Christine both looked up at the large chateau in a state of awe. Christine was beginning to feel extremely weak from their distant journey and feared her knees would soon collapse from under her weight. Leaning into Erik for support, he looked down at her with a weary smile.

"Are you sure about this?" Erik questioned, pushing the dark hair dusted with snow away from Christine's cherub-shaped face.

"Yes - I mean, I think so. Raoul and I had tea here a few months ago with a friend of his father's and his wife. I cannot recall the name, though I remember they were dreadful people." She laughed faintly at the memory of the man's wife who was enamored with "La Carlotta", spending the entire visit questioning Christine on what it must be like to sing in the presence of such a "brilliant" soprano.

"I suppose we are all drawn to those who are most like ourselves." She told Erik as they began to walk slowly up the stairs toward the imposing double doors. "The place is completely empty. They left for America shortly after I met them and have enough money to keep this place for holidays every year or so."

"Lucky for us, I suppose. Anything is better than out here." he mused.

Erik placed a hand to turn the large golden doorknob, only to find it securely locked. Christine sighed in disappointment, leaning into the door as she hugged herself tightly in an effort to fend off some of the piercing cold.

"Damn." Erik muttered under his breath, his eyes darting around the large building for some other means of entrance. Sighting a brick towards the bottom of the stairway, he left Christine briefly to retrieve it. Her body quickly grew stiff and tight from lack of movement, the frigid air biting through her skin and down to her bones and muscles. Pressing her back into the large marble door, she slowly slid down to the ground. All of her surroundings were becoming thick and hazy, like being inside her dream, and she found it impossible to move her arms or legs. The only thing that kept her from sinking into sleep was the loud noise of glass breaking fairly close to where she sat crumpled on the ground.

"What a pity, though I'm sure they will be able to sacrifice a few francs to have it repaired when they return." Erik commented dryly. His face quickly grew grim, however, when he saw Christine resting half-conscious against the heavy door.

"Christine!" he shouted as he disposed of the brick and strode briskly over to where she sat, her body convulsing. As if she were only a child's doll, he lifted her into his arms without effort, just as he had done when she had collapsed after visiting his lair for the first time. She licked her lips involuntarily, the skin chaffed from exposure to the freezing temperatures. Erik's commanding voice seemed miles away as she felt herself being carried a few steps before stopping again.

"Christine - you must stay awake! Listen to my voice - you must stay awake!"

The sound of glass breaking even more resonated inside her head, and she used all her willpower to keep her eyelids from closing again, no matter how heavy they seemed. Erik lifted her body through the window before entering inside the grand house himself. Christine's skin was ghostly white, her lips turning a sickly color of blue. Although Erik was past the point of freezing himself, he hurriedly glanced around the room for something in which to cover Christine.

The inside of the home looked as if its owners had simply packed a few belongs and left. All of their furniture, books, expensive artwork, and other furnishings still remained in its original placing. A few large, lightweight clothes covered some of the more fragile pieces of the household to ward off mold and dust, such as a beautiful mahogany piano that served as the centerpiece for the main parlor they had entered. The intricately crafted marble floors glistened in the moonlight and beams of light traveled up the massive staircase leading to the eight furnished bedrooms. There was a ghostlike ambiance to the house; covered forms hovering, waiting is silence.

Erik gently carried Christine to a royal blue divan where he savagely threw the covering to the ground and gently placed her shaking body onto the elegant silk fabric. Tearing a velvet drape away from a window it was sheltering, he quickly wrapped the covering tightly around her. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, trying desperately to generate heat to her body. Placing a large hand at the base of her throat, he could feel her pulse slowly fading. Erik had read how quickly a person could drift into a permanent coma when suffering from hypothermia.

"I'm…so c-cold, Erik." She whispered softly, her arms not responding to her desire to reach out and hold him close. It was if her own body was completely disconnected from her mind.

"I know…I know…" Erik said helplessly. His brow furrowed as he thought of some way to cease her tremors. "Just keep your eyes open, Christine. Keep looking into my eyes."

Christine's eyes fluttered briefly before focusing intently on Erik's deep green irises, partially covered by the dark hair that fell wildly over his face. Despite the layer of lush velvet fabric, the only warmth she felt was the flesh of his hand against her cheek.

"I know you want to, Christine, but do _not _fall asleep. Keep listening to me." He repeated.

"These clothes are…so wet. I can't…I can't feel…" Christine stammered, her teeth rattling between words. Slowly, she drew her arm across her chest, pulling the red covering to the ground. Erik looked at her questioningly for a moment, then rested himself beside her on one knee. His breath caught in his chest as he looked over her body. Simply looking at her unspeakable beauty made him feel unworthy. Hesitantly, he drew a hand towards the fastenings of her corselette, fearful of the shallow rise and fall of her torso. Slowly, yet rhythmically, he undid each of the metal clasps, all the while keeping his gaze fixated intently on her worshipping eyes. Although it was extremely difficult to keep his own shaking hands steady, he finally managed to release the final catch, sliding the burgundy undergarment from under her back and discarding it to the ground.

Christine's expression remained unchanged as his hands clumsily searched for the fastening of her grey muslin skirt, stained with mud and his own blood. His heart felt as if it would burst from his chest as he felt her skin quiver as his hand inadvertently touched a bare portion of her stomach. Swallowing hard, he gently eased the fabric over her hips and down her legs. Gripping her lower leg a bit tighter to prevent trembling so severely, he rolled each of her damp stockings down the length of her legs, allowing his fingers to lightly graze her porcelain skin before throwing the garments to the ground. He looked back up at her face with the awe of a man in love, telling himself not to glance at her virtually naked body, now clad in only a thin chemise. Her skin was cold and clammy - involuntarily spasming on her body.

As if becoming suddenly aware of the delicate state she was in, Erik hastily retrieved the velvet drape from the ground to throw over her. Pushing the hair back from her forehead, Erik then lightly brushed his lips over the skin and began to rise from her side.

"I will go find something more."

Christine's moved her head back and forth against the top of the divan, wrinkling her brow as she feebly pushed the fabric off her body again.

"No…Erik, hold me. Please…I need you." She cried with desperation, a small tear escaping the corner of her eye as she clutched his wrist when he stood. He slowly rested his weight back against the side of the royal settee, searching her eyes.

"Erik, please…I c-can't stop shaking." Christine pleaded softly as she ran her hand down the marred portion of his face. Erik closed his eyes and pushed his cheek against her hand, reveling in her touch that felt like rose petals against his skin. Part of him wanted to object - fearing he was taking advantage of a delicate situation. Yet another part of him cried to be next to her, to feel her body, to feel the warmth that only she could give him and he to her. He could feel her hand wrap around the back of his neck, using what effort she possessed to pull him closer.

"Oh, Christine…" he spoke, the words barely audible through his heavy breathing. Gently, he eased his upper body on top of hers, lacing his arms underneath her and cradling her head in his hands. He could feel her fingers weakly trace up his side and under the torn white shirt, lifting it only a few inches to aver her desire to him. Grasping the fabric between his shoulder blades, he raised the fabric up his back and over his head, casting the garment to the floor in one swift motion. A deep shade of red touched his cheeks as he began to carefully pull Christine's soaked chemise over her breasts and down her stomach, allowing the warmth of their bare skin to finally make contact. Never once did his piercing gaze travel from her wide eyes.

Erik shuddered as he relaxed his torso against Christine. A gush of warm air escaped his lips and fell against her neck as he felt each and every one of her womanly curves push against his chest. He tangled his fingers in her dark tresses and lightly rested his chin in the crevice between her neck and shoulder, speaking hushed words into her ear. Never before had he felt so close to another human being. The voluptuous sensation a woman created was a feeling he had endured years without, and he was not about to let Christine go now - not ever.

The moonlight broke through the dingy windows and danced in patches over Christine's face. She smiled faintly as her hands rested on his lower back, holding him closer to her as the trembling began to ebb. The heat from his body washed over her wave upon wave, warming her to the very core. Her expression changed, however, as one of her fingers lightly passed over one of the countless welts that covered his back.

"I'm sorry." Christine gasped. "Oh, Erik, what have I done to you? I am so sorry. If I would have stayed with you that night of the fire, if I would have never gone with Raoul - none of this would have happened. It's all my fault. Please, forgive me..."

"Hush my angel." Erik comforted softly, placing his hand over her lips. He brushed his thumb over her cheek to wipe away a stray tear. "Don't even think it."

Erik replaced his hand with the touch of his lips, softly pushing his tongue into her mouth. Christine responded timidly at first, her hand resting lightly on his scarred face, before responding to his embrace with fervor. Their tongues mingled in each other's mouths; prodding, searching, exploring the beautiful unknown. Erik gratefully allowed her to push against him, opening his mouth in rapture as she traced his lips with her own. The pounding of his heart against her chest made Christine's pulse quicken and the blood to race back to her arms and legs. The emptiness of space between their naked bodies was both strange and exciting. Erik consumed her lips passionately with his own, feeling if he broke the kiss, she would be gone from him forever.

Christine ran her fingers through his dark tresses as she rolled her head back in ecstasy against the settee, directing his lips down toward her neck and shoulders. He beset her skin passionately with kisses, smiling each time her heart beat quickened as he parted their touch for even a moment. Without even noticing, she slowly wrapped each of her long legs around his own, arching her back into him with wordless desire.

"Oh, Erik..." she whispered time after time. Raising her head to capture his lips again, Christine could feel his body stiffen and his eyes dart away from her.

"What? What's the matter?" Christine questioned, both hands cupping his face as she searched it for answers. His throat tightened.

"Christine, I can't...I mean, I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to be the animal everybody else believes me to be. Not to you. _Especially _to you." Erik choked.

Although he tried to distance himself from her body by propping his weight on his elbows, Christine could still feel his growing desire for her clearly evident between the clasp of her legs. The look on Erik's face was heart-wrenching. So much pain and sadness mixed with such an abundance of love and desire. Their innocence was a common bond they both shared, and a bond they wanted to break together. Christine wanted more than anything to make him feel happy, to feel loved. She wanted _him. _Yet she knew years of anguish and torment made Erik doubtful that any human being could ever love him enough to sacrifice themselves completely, willingly - not out of pity.

Even through the darkness, Christine could detect his eyes glistening with unshed tears. Erik's glance remained fixed away from her towards another part of the grand room. She could feel his body begin to shift in an effort to lift himself from her, but Christine responded with urgency, tightening her grasp on him and guiding his eyes back down to her pleading face.

The motion unwillingly released a tear from his eye that fell on Christine's cheek. "No! You promised you would never leave me. What are you so afraid of - that somebody loves you, that you must now feel the burden of my love?"

Erik took a heavy breath outward, shaking his head sadly as he traced he face with the back of his hand. "Your love is no burden, my angel, it is a blessing. It has been my every dream and prayer - for even an ounce of your affection to lie with me. Oh, how can I make you understand, Christine! Every fiber of my being - my heart, my soul, my body - scream to be with you, but my mind - my conscience - tells me it is wrong. I never want to wrong you Christine - never. You are the one pure, good thing in my life. I would rather die than feel the pain of corrupting it with my wretchedness. "

"But I don't want you to protect me! I want _you._" Christine cried, pushing her forehead up against his. "Why can't _you _understand that? I love you without limitation."

She turned her face away from him, suddenly embarrassed by her nakedness and spoke to him dejectedly. "I think I have loved you all my life - since the first night I heard you sing to me when my father died. You are already a part of me, Erik, no matter what you may want or believe."

Erik's jaw clenched as he buried his face in her hair and groaned in frustration. "Oh, Christine! Do you honestly believe I do not want you?" he demanded. Her cherub face was like a magnet, and he felt his hand drawn to its softness. "If I could change things, the past, I would. God knows how I would! But I cannot and will not hurt you in this way."

"Please, Erik - let me choose for myself. You will not hurt me. I promise. Please..." Christine begged, the pained look on his face making her stomach twist into knots. Picking up a strong, bandaged hand, she guided it down her shoulder and rested it on her breast. He looked at her with speechless awe, not knowing what to do or say. Christine stared at him with a quiet confidence and earnest desire that stirred Erik's lust even greater heights that he had ever imagined possible.

"Please, Erik. Let me give you the joys of the flesh...give such to me." Christine implored once again, becoming frightened by his silence. "I am yours completely...touch me."

For a few moments, Erik allowed his hand to remain transfixed on the delicate skin, gently caressing the unfamiliar valleys and crevices. With a ferocity that surprised them both, Erik collapsed his body gently back onto Christine, his lips fervently searching her eager mouth. It seemed like hours before they took even a single breath of their own. Neither one wanted to part the embrace, as each moment seemed even sweeter and more intoxicating than the last. Christine unconsciously rocked her hips underneath him, lifting her body from the lush velvet to meet each of the movements he made. He slid his arms underneath her as he drew his head toward each of her breasts, pushing his mouth and tough over the foreign areas with the same zeal that he had pursued her own lips. The hot, shaking breaths on her skin made Christine's entire body shudder with a strange sensation. She thought briefly how peculiar it is that a person could feel such numbing cold one moment, an almost unbearable heat the next.

Entranced by the love and passion that burned in his eyes, Christine absentmindedly allowed her hands to roam down his broad chest and strong stomach, stopping short as her fingers reached the waistband of his trousers. Her hands shook with nervous anticipation, obviously quite unaccustomed to such a situation. Yet the gentle touch of Erik's lips on the side of her breast made her heart race even faster and the unexplainable need deep inside to burn with even greater intensity. Erik sought her lips once again, desperately trying to be delicate with the chafed skin. He wrapped his hands in her soft curls, drinking in the womanly scent of her shoulders. Christine pushed a cheek against the marred side of his face, a tear touching the exposed skin. It was the only part of him she hated - only because it was why he hated himself so much. She wished she could show the world the beautiful creature she saw - the man who now held her with such love and protection. But Christine knew that even the respect of every human in Paris would not make him happy. Only she could. It was only her love that mattered to him.

Christine grasped the black fabric of his trousers firmly with both hands and slowly eased them over his broad hips, allowing her small feet to push them down the length of his legs and onto the floor. Erik could feel her throat ripple against his shoulder as she swallowed hard at the strange sensation resting against such a sacred place. He followed every expression on her facing, looking for any sign of fear or reservation. Her breathing grew heavier in excitement, and Erik was surprised that instead of turning away in disgust, she instead pushed her body up softly against him.

His fingers slowly rolled up the curves of her neck, pausing to cup her beautiful face in his hands. Christine gripped his wrists for assurance as he kissed each of her eyelids then rested his lips in a lingering embrace on her own.

"Do you trust me?" he murmured softly into her mouth.

Christine nodded without a doubt in her mind. "I will always trust you, my angel." The words seemed heavy on her lips, like the numbing sensation after the sting of a bee's poison.

"Then do not fear me."

Abandoning the soft flesh of her breast, he trailed his hand down the length of her until resting on the gentle curve of a knee that was locked around his thighs. He grasped the smooth skin, bending her leg up closer to his side while still devouring her mouth greedily.

"I love you, Christine...oh, if only you knew how much..." Erik breathed huskily, his voice dense with lust. "This is the point of no return."

Christine responded simply, shifting below him again to explore the hardness that grew against her belly. "_How long are we to wait until we're one?_"

"Hold on to me, my angel. I will take care of you."

Although the Phantom was equally as innocent as Christine, human instinct soon overtook him. Her hands snaked around his back, holding to him with care. Erik rested his forehead against hers as he lifted from her for only a moment before slowly sinking back down on her body. While still grasping one leg at his side, he gently pushed himself into her, allowing each and every sensation to absorb into his trembling body. Christine tore her face away from him and gasped first in shock, then in intense pain. Her nails inadvertently drove fiercely into the skin above his shoulder blades, not knowing how to harness the intense feelings that ravaged inside of her. Erik's heart dropped as he saw the agony wash over his beloved's face.

"Forgive me, Christine...please. I will stop..." Erik choked as he stroked her hair and began to remove himself.

"No! You promised me!" Christine cried out through gritted teeth, her hands planted firmly on his back to keep him against her body.

"I will not do this to you."

Christine blinked back the hot tears that quickly sprung to her eyes. "It's alright. Please...it is only at first. The only true pain you can cause me is by leaving me now. I need you. I _want you._" She pleaded.

He felt like an animal, and the thought sickened him. How could he ask his beloved to sacrifice herself to satisfy his own selfish desires? Erik relaxed his body hesitantly, embracing her sweet lips in an effort to relieve the reality of some of the discomfort. His grasp left her leg that remained pressed against their sides, allowing his hand to slowly travel down her belly and guide himself inside her. He kissed the tears from her cheeks that she tried in vain to conceal, murmuring soothing words of love into her ear. Christine's hands clasped the base of his neck as she pressed her breasts against him, forcing his mouth to find hers. It was impossible for Erik not to groan in pleasure as he began to slowly thrust into her soft flesh. The feeling was so perfect, so unexplainable - he feared closing his eyes would make the moment vanish altogether. While the uncomfortable sensation began to subside, Christine first found most of her pleasure from the look of unspeakable joy and satisfaction that washed over Erik's face. Although the feeling of him inside her was so strange and tender, Christine somehow felt as if she were created to fit together with him.

The reality of their union was no longer a distant thought - some unspoken ideal dreamed of but never attained. This was real. Christine wondered briefly how many years he must have longed for this, yet in that moment she realized she had been equally consumed with desire for the Phantom of the Opera - possibly even more. Time seemed to cease altogether as they became a single soul, a fact that had always been true yet never consummated. To feel the bareness of each other's skin, the life of each other's breath, and every movement of each other's bodies - was a sensation beyond measured time or comparison.

And Christine truly was made for Erik, for he had made her. For twelve years he had molded and guided her into the woman she is now. She had always been his protégé- a rose he had witnessed blossom before his eyes. The thought of her ever with anyone else other than him sent a chill down his spine and caused a lump to form in his throat. With his other hand, he grasped the side of her slender waist possessively to steady her body, watching with satisfaction as the expression on her face soon transformed from pain to astonished pleasure.

Arching her back against him, Christine could feel Erik sink deep inside her with even the smallest movement of his body. Her arms and legs were bound about him like vines, clinging to the surreal experience; fearing that such bliss could only be fleeting and would pass with the blink of an eye. Erik cupped her breasts in his gentle hands as he captured her mouth ardently in another embrace, his body still moving steadily above her. The soft moans and cries of pleasure emitted from Christine were quickly pushing Erik to madness, and his jaw clenched to prevent releasing his contained passions too quickly.

"What have you done to me, my angel?" Erik teased softly, all the rest of the world seeming to melt into one hazy, unpleasant memory. Once comfortable with the strange feeling of him inside her, Christine soon began to raise her hips to meet his, matching each and every thrust. Their pace quickened, yet their eyes remained locked together, reveling in each other's changing expression. Their raging passion was full of so much longing, so much desperation - the depths of their intensity seemingly could not bring them close enough together. Christine pressed her hand firmly against his scarred cheek as she began to feel her lower body shudder and contract against him. A gasp of air rushed into her lungs, and she found herself burying her mouth into his hair to prevent from crying out although only he could hear her voice.

"Can you...feel...that...?" She mouthed, her words barely audible as her focus remained transfixed on the raw, dreamlike sensation that caused her entire body to spasm in ecstasy.

Erik laughed softly at her innocence. "Yes, my love. I can feel that."

Resting his chin against the softness of hers, he allowed himself to drown in the sense of her joy - a thought that forced him to give into the wonderful, maddening, and confusing weight that controlled him to experience the same rapture as his angel. It was pleasure bordering on agony. He smiled briefly as he clung to her with ferocity, and with a final thrust and deep growl, emptied years of longing into the only woman he was born to love. Erik's voice resounded in the manor's walls as he collapsed upon her, his strength spent.

Their bodies rose and fell in tandem with each labored breath. For minutes they simply laid in a state of shock mixed with quiet contentment, limbs intertwined. Erik shifted his weight slightly to the side, yet still rested his cheek on her breast. Like a mother comforting her child, Christine stroked his hair softly, enjoying the simplicity of his warm breath against her bare skin. Tears sprung once again to her eyes as she felt a tear drop from Erik's face and trail down her stomach. She could hear him weeping softly, murmuring her name into her skin. With one arm beneath her back and another hand resting on her stomach, Erik basked in her touch as if it were sunlight.

Christine lifted herself forward to kiss the top of his head. "What is wrong, Erik? Did I do something...wrong?"

Erik's brow furrowed as he saw the worried expression on his angel's face, and guilt soon overtook him because of his uncaring silence. "No, no..." He whispered as he gently grasped her arms and pulled her on top of him. A small laugh escaped, however, at the realization of how distant from the truth her remark was. "If I died I at this moment, I would be more content than any man who ever lived a lifetime of happiness. I never thought I could feel such...such..."

He shook his head at a loss for words worthy of the gravity of his feelings. Christine turned her face upwards to smile at him, resting her chin on his chest and running her fingers through his wild hair. She straddled his hips, her body finding refuge against him in places she never thought possible. His eyes roamed up and down her naked body in awe and reverence, her skin glistening in the moonlight with a light sheen of sweat. Erik grasped the cobalt drape and wrapped it again around her back. The dark curls on Christine's head washed over Erik's chest, covering the ghastly scars and bruises that marred his otherwise perfect flesh. The feelings she possessed for this man both overwhelmed and frightened her.

"Tell me I will always be yours, Erik. Tell me nothing will ever take us away from each other, that we will die holding each other like this, old and wrinkled in our bed. Tell me..." Christine sobbed.

Erik shut his eyes briefly and cupped her cheek within one of his large hands. "You belong to me, my angel, and I to you. _Always."_ He continued to stroke her face moist with tears. "That is all I can promise you."

The look of dejection that passed over Christine's face was too much for him to bear. He turned the disfigured side of his face away from her, sickened by the curse God had given him. "It is only a matter of time before they find us. What I have done...the sins of my past...are unforgivable, Christine. I have no life to offer you - no future. Don't you understand that?"

"But _I _forgive you, Erik! Does that not matter to you at all? I cannot live without you - not now, not ever!" Christine pounded his chest with her small fists, tears of helplessness streaming down her pale cheeks. Her tone became louder and louder as emotion overtook her actions. "You say you want to protect me, yet you act as though you wish to throw me back to the dogs! How dare you break your promise to me -that you would never leave me! You are nothing but I coward and I liar - I hate you! I hate you!"

Erik sat up on the divan, lifting Christine while still holding her securely against him. The velvet covering fell from her shoulders and down her back. He closed his hands gently around her angry wrists, halting her desperate blows. Shaking her softly, he pushed his face inches away from hers, covered by her heated breath. When she stilled, he moved his hands to cradle her face, his fingers grasping her hair for life. The muscles in his jaw were tense in an effort to control the flood of emotions that welled deep inside of him.

"Shhhh...Stop...please!" Erik cried. "I say these things to you because they are the _truth, _Christine. I cannot lie to you as you do to me. It is _because_ I love you that I cannot keep you. You may always be mine, but this..." His hands trailed to her back and pushed her body firmly against him. Christine responded by grasping his sides with equal force. "...this is a dream - a dream that cannot last. As much as it pains me to believe it, I am a fool not to. I know that now."

A tear fell down Erik's imperfect cheek. "Oh, Christine...I am not the only man in the world who could love you. Yet it does not matter how much I do, it is not enough. I cannot take care you in the way that you deserve." His voice quieted, and he pulled her face against his heaving chest. "They _will _find me, Christine. The crimes I have committed will not fade away with time. And with this face...this wretched _face..._anyone who ever sees me will know who I am."

"But I don't care! I just want _you!"_ Christine sobbed into the warmth of his skin.

Erik's eyes rolled back in his head. He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs what torture this was for him, but he could not do so. "Please don't do this to me, Christine." He asked quietly. "When the time comes, it must come to pass. There is no stopping it. God has been against me for too long to let such sins go unpunished - even the sin of us together now. It is inevitable."

Christine was silent for a long time before lifting her tear-stained face to face those haunting eyes. "How long do we have?"

The honest question pained Erik beyond measure. His lips brushed across her mouth again before resting against her ear. "I don't know. I don't know..." He murmured.

Christine mirrored his action, pushing her face against his malformed skin and whispered into his ear. The words were choked with sobs as she held him close. "Then make love to me again, my angel."

He fell back with a soft thud against the settee, pulling her with him. The sounds of their heated passion echoed throughout the manor - their manor - as they united their love countless times into the night. They barely noticed the strange sensation of sun falling over their drained bodies as they held each other in silence, numb with satisfaction.

"No one can ever take this away from us. No one." Erik whispered to the sleeping beauty that lay in his strong arms. He clasped one of her hands and brought it to rest above his heart, smiling sadly.

**A/N: Oh, please! I am begging you from the bottom of my heart to review! This chapter took me so long to write, and I don't even really liked how it turned out. Lately, the times when I have been in the mood to write a love scene have been very slim, to put such lightly. However, I finally found a little inspiration and some good music, and well - there it is. But please tell me what you like or don't like (hopefully a lot more of the former) so I can know how to continue. There will be about two or three chapters left before the end, so get out your tissues! Doesn't Erik make you want to cry - I love him so much!**


	13. The Quiet Before the Storm

_**Chapter 13: The Quiet Before the Storm**_

**A/N: Okay, I know, I know….I'm a horrible person for abandoning my story like I have. I actually wrote this chapter almost a year ago, but the iBook I had it on took quite a tumble, and I just now got around to getting it repaired and recovering this. I promise there will be much more to come…**

There was still a tangible warmth radiating next to Christine's body and between her arms as she slowly began to stir from her deep slumber. She had never before felt so content...so complete, in her entire life. For a brief moment, she could not remember where she was or any of the events leading up to this moment. It was like she had woken from a year's sleep, with all the agonizing pain her heart had endured suddenly erased. The only noise present in the large manor was the occasional snow flurry escaping through the small crevices of the windowsills and tree limbs brushing against the panes.

"_...this is a dream - a dream that cannot last."_ The sweet voice echoed in her head. Images of the day before suddenly poured back into her mind and overwhelmed her senses. Christine's heart fell into her stomach as her eyes flew open, frightened by the empty space next to her. She quickly sat herself upright on the settee, a blush creeping up her cheeks as she realized her body was completely bare. Clutching the velvet drape closely to her bosom, Christine's brow furrowed with worry as she anxiously searched the room.

"Erik?" she questioned quietly at first, her tone growing more and more desperate as her question met no response. "Erik! Answer me!"

Her bare feet hit the marble floor with a light _thud_ as she slid off the luxurious chaise. Her body ached for many reasons, though mostly from the effects of the bitter cold. Every step was stiff and difficult, yet her mind was too consumed with terrible thoughts to give any concern to the discomfort. Panic gripped her stomach tightly as she moved from room to room, calling out his name to no avail.

"_When the time comes, it must come to pass. There is no stopping it." _ Erik's unsettling words passed through her thoughts again. Her dark curls fell over her face and shoulders as she rushed from one room to the next. "Erik! Please...Oh, please, God! Not now...Not yet..."

The house was so massive, it seemed like a maze to a creature as small as Christine. The sheer size and quantity of the rooms made her head spin - each one appearing the same as the next.

As her body became stronger and her mind plagued with even darker thoughts, Christine raced through the main kitchen that connected to the courtyard. "Erik!" she called again as she tore open the door to the back entrance. For a moment, her breath was caught in her chest, forcing her to grasp the doorframe for support. She laughed slightly -- part relief, part embarrassment -- as a single tear fell off her cheek now rosy from physical exertion. Erik resembled a Greek god - his lean, muscular figure resting on a stone pillar with his elbow propped against his knee and one hand tangled in his dark hair. He wore only his soiled white shirt and black breeches, now sprinkled white with the light morning snowfall. Even though his body had been flogged and beaten within an inch of his life, his presence still portrayed so much strength and power. His head rose from the refuge of a marred hand as he heard Christine rustle behind him. Erik thought he had never seen a sight so beautiful in all his life - an angel with such a curious expression of love and worry framing porcelain features.

"Erik, I thought...I mean, I was so worried that..." Christine spoke as emotion choked back the words. Her knees began to buckle and her body shook uncontrollably at the sight of her beloved in such quiet contemplation. Jumping down from his pedestal, Erik strode toward her with an almost staggering ferocity. He crushed Christine's body to his own, burying his nose and mouth in the sweet scent of her hair before kissing each and every inch of her face.

"I'm here." Erik whispered simply while tenderly running his hands up and down the length of her arms.

"I thought you were a dream." She said through her tears of relief.

"Shhh...my love. I am right here. You can feel me, can you not?" Erik clasped her face between his hands, his thumb brushing away the fresh tears that traveled down her cheek. "Please forgive me, Christine. I should never have left you alone. I only needed the air to...think. Waking up next to you this morning - it was, well..." His gaze traveled over the vast expanse of the elegant gardens. There really was no words to describe how he felt, yet he knew he could not allow her to sense the sadness in his words. He mustered a weak smile, turning his attention back to her. "Sometimes the beauty you possess, both in body in soul, overwhelms me so much, I feel I cannot contain my emotions but to look at you. It is almost painful."

Christine laughed softly. "More painful than this wretched cold that you subject yourself to? Look at yourself -- you are shaking." She drew his hands down between her own, rubbing up and down the length of them to generate heat. "Your hands are ice." Erik pushed himself even closer against her, allowing her womanly curves to simply mold into his own hard body. "And what about yourself, my dear?" He chuckled softly. "I am not the one standing practically naked in front of a man on a stranger's estate." Christine blushed painfully once again and pulled the crimson drape even tighter around her small frame.

"No, don't." He said gently, not wanting his words to cause her embarrassment. "You never have to hide yourself from me, Christine. You are perfect -- perfect beyond words."

She tilted her head back sheepishly to gaze into the dark, piercing eyes the bore deep into her very soul. "You mean last night -- you weren't, well, _disappointed_ in me? It was not like anything I had ever experienced. I know you have waited so long...I'm sorry if I wasn't what you expected."

Erik shook his head adamantly as he brought each of her hands to meet the soft caress of his lips. He smiled at her innocent worry. "How could you think that, my love? Never...Never!" The smile quickly faded, however, as he thought of how he behaved the previous night - all bottled passion and torment. Here she had sacrificed herself to him completely, most likely naive of the physical repercussions of such a union, yet what level of restraint had he practiced? None at all. It sickened him to think that his passion had robbed him of all sense of control and care for her well-being.

"Forgive me, Christine. I was a beast to behave as I did? May God curse me for whatever pain I caused you. I promise it won't happen again." Erik dropped his head contritely, averting the painful judgment her eyes would pass.

"No." Christine murmured into his chest. "I mean, no...you could never hurt me. I am yours now completely, aren't I?"

"You _always _have been, Christine." Erik growled gently and possessively. "Last night only consummated our love - not defined it. I would have loved you even if you had not given yourself to me."

Erik tilted her chin in the direction of his wanting lips, positioning his mouth so close to hers, they were drinking in each other's air without any physical contact. The closeness was too much for Christine to bear. She arched her back to meet his lips, yet was met by only a boyish grin as stood more erect to make her effort in vain. His eyes danced with laughter as she desperately tried to cover his mouth before he raised himself even taller, flaunting his height over her smaller frame.

"My dear, one moment you tell me you love me, the next - you don't want to kiss me! I suppose that is what happens when I give my heart to a woman of modern society." He said teasingly. "Will you not kiss me, my love?"

Christine made every attempt to conceal the laughter bubbling inside her. Her brow wrinkled in frustration as she pushed away from him slightly.

"And I suppose this should teach me a lesson in giving my heart to a man more accomplished and handsome than myself." Christine teased, slapping his chest lightly and spinning away from him. Erik held her hand fast, the cold air carrying his deep, lighthearted laugh as he pulled her back to his strong embrace.

"Come now!" He scolded her. He collapsed his lips on her own, their laughter melting into an unquenchable and fiery passion. A strange sense of sadness mixed into their embrace as they clung to each other fiercely in the morning cold, adding to the desperation of their ardor. Christine's legs trembled as he ravished her mouth with such love and ferocity, causing her to grasp his shoulders for support. Her breath was short and ragged as his sweet lips trailed kissses down her neck and chest. The blood in her body was stirred to a point of agony.

"I want...you." she whispered lustfully into his ear, the words seeming chaste when paired with her expression or innocence. His hands tangled themselves in her curls as he slowly drew her head back, determined to expose the lips that spoke such an exceedingly seductive utterance. Sensing her surrender and growing weakness, Erik swiftly collected Christine in his arms as if she were a child, his chin resting on her dark hair as he began to walk purposefully towards the door. He carried her through the main kitchen and grand hall towards the same parlor and divan where they had united their love countless times before. Christine's eyes remained in a trance on her mysterious phantom, watching as he clenched his strong jaw to control his own erratic breathing. Yet as they neared the main corridor, Christine's voice was barely audible as she spoke, "Erik, stop. Let me down now."

To Erik, the worlds felt like lightning had struck him at that very moment. He had obviously been far too hasty in assuming her intentions toward him. Quickly averting his glance toward the floor, Erik halted his steps and, as gently and swiftly as possible, released her and held her at arms length. "I'm…I'm sorry. I forgot myself..."He choked.

Yet before he could finish his misconstrued thought, Christine had already forced herself upon him, silencing his words with her eager mouth. Although slightly taken aback, it was not difficult for Erik to match the same zeal in which she united their embrace. The covering that was bound loosely around her bosom fell silently to the floor. While allowing his tongue to delve into the soft confines of her mouth, Erik slowly backed Christine against the wall of the adjoining drawing room. Without his lips taking leave from her skin for even a moment, Erik pursued the softness of her neck, chest, and belly with his mouth. Christine clutched his hair and bit down hard upon her lip to constrain the vocal evidences of her rapture. No matter what level of pleasure Christine may have experienced, a small part of her was still embarrassed when it came to acknowledging the act of love. Nonetheless, a long, shuddering moan escaped from the back of her throat. This noise stirred Erik's excitement to even greater heights, and his lips quickly moved back over her breasts to find refuge in her welcoming mouth. He noticed that she was trembling, yet that it was out of coldness or anticipation he could not ascertain. With a deep, ragged breath, he wrapped his arms tightly around her and pressed his mouth and nose into her dark brown tresses. Christine tilted her head to kiss his marred cheek as she gently ran her fingers through his hair, speaking in hushed tones to him as she would to a child.

Their embrace was short lived, however, as their hearts both stopped short together, hearing a loud commotion of voices and barking dogs in the distance…

**A/N: BTW, I am not leaving you guys up in the air on purpose or as bait to get people to read the next chapter, I just honestly don't know in what direction I am going to take this. "Writer's block" is an understatement for my situation with this aggravating story! I honestly could not decide how I should end and still appease my readers. Speaking of which, I cannot tell you guys how much I appreciate your reviews - they been the driving force behind this fic! Many of you have noted that Erik is behaving a bit erratically by wanting to let Christine go. You must understand, however, that Christine's love has changed him - not just his circumstances, but his heart and conscience as well. He may have her, but he would always feel the remorse of his past sins. Let me know what you think.**


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